Silencing Nature
by Ajay435
Summary: When Arnold was born, his cries silenced all of nature. Now, as the adventure in San Lorenzo draws to a close, Arnold will learn that he's far more than your average bold kid. And he's not the only one. Shortaki with a mystic twist, set immediately Post TJM kiss.
1. Chapter 1 - The Guide

**TJM spoiler warning!**

 **I do not own Hey Arnold! or The Jungle Movie.**

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 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 1 - The Guide**

The children's faces blushed a matching shade of fiery red. They had been caught, by Arnold's best friend and _parents_ of all people, sharing a moment that Helga had been dreaming of for over seven years. She cursed herself for being careless, but then again, being interrupted during her most romantic moments was hardly anything new for her. At least this was a change of pace from Brainy's heavy breathing and blank, awkward stare. That being said, Helga cringed as she wondered which was worse; the smug, condescending grin on Gerald's face as he shook his head, or the amused cooing of Arnold's parents, as they gazed at each other knowingly.

"Ok, _now_ I've seen everything!"

Hearing Gerald speak, Helga was trapped in a moment of internal conflict. On the one hand, she was furious at the sudden intrusion into an unguarded moment, not to mention hugely embarrassed. Her fists were begging to be put to use in wiping the smile from his face. Granted, she didn't feel it would be wise to give Arnold's parents the same treatment, but part of maintaining a reputation was leaving some witnesses alive to spread the word... On the other hand, her entire body coursed with electricity. Arnold had _kissed_ her. KISSED! HER! A completely unscripted kiss that _he_ initiated, no less! And if they hadn't been so rudely interrupted, who knows how long the kiss might have continued. Helga's heart was soaring in the unbelievable realisation that, after seven years of sneaking, spying, plotting and above all longing, one of her plans to have Arnold return her affections had finally, _finally_ worked! And to think, all it took was thousands of miles of international travel, saving his life a couple of times, physically fighting an insane, bloodthirsty river pirate, waking his parents up from a nine-year sort-of-coma, and rescuing an entire dying civilisation! Had their current situation been different, her body probably would have occupied itself by singing and dancing for a few days while her mind worked on a few thousand new poems. But as it stood, all the girl could do was glance desperately in Arnold's direction in the hopes of some kind of escape from this awkward moment.

Arnold, of course, was going through his own panic, although he lacked Helga's gut reaction towards physical violence. He knew that it had hardly been the moment for an important, private talk – he was in a city filled with people who worshipped him as a god, plus his parents, after all – but he had never shared Helga's skill when it came to not acting on his feelings. And these feelings, whatever they were, were _very_ strong. Being amazed by Helga, and being unbelievably grateful to Helga, neither of these were new; there were so many times that she had acted selflessly on his behalf, and just as many when he had glimpsed the impressive girl he knew she could be shining through (no matter how hard she tried to hide). He had spent a long, confusing year sorting through those particular thoughts. But the _fear_ had been new. There had been too many times in the last day that Arnold had been faced with the reality of losing Helga forever, the most recent occurring as they clung to a ruined bridge for dear life (or in Helga's case, Gerald's back), and each instance had terrified him for reasons he was only just coming to understand. With all of this already bearing down on him, for her to then present her heart in a moment of utter vulnerability and return his parents to him, Arnold had simply been swept away. He wished that he had the words to express everything that the trip had meant to him, and that _she_ apparently meant to him, but the kiss was to be a start. What had surprised him, when he stood holding Helga's hands and heart in his own, was that he _wasn't_ nervous. As he leaned up and closed his eyes, he had realised that, somehow, he trusted her absolutely. The feeling of her soft, warm lips on his own seemed to set off a firework in his chest, sending warmth flooding throughout his body – _that_ had been surprising too, in a very welcome if slightly overwhelming way. They seemed to fit together perfectly, their hands and their lips, leaving him to dimly wonder whether all kisses felt so perfect; he had nothing to compare it to, and he suspected that he didn't want to. He had planned on saying more once the kiss had ended, but the sudden interruption had temporarily robbed him of his ability to speak.

"Hey, Gerald. Hey... Mom and Dad," the words still seemed unfamiliar on his tongue, when he finally spoke, though he looked forward to getting used to them, "Helga and I were just, uh..."

"Getting caught in the heat of the moment!" Helga suddenly, loudly interjected, her choice of words making Arnold give a small cringe. "Yep, he was grateful that I basically saved his parents' lives, I was grateful that I made it through the last 24 hours without dying, both of us are more than a little dehydrated! I _really_ wouldn't bother looking any further into it, Geraldo." The look she shot Gerald then was a strange combination of menacing threat and desperate pleading.

"Mmhm." Gerald simply regarded them with crossed arms and a thoroughly unconvinced expression on his face. He had seen entirely too much of the secret weirdness of Helga Pataki since this all began to believe such a flimsy excuse.

"Well in _any_ case," Stella quickly came to the rescue, smiling sympathetically at the scrambling children, "you shouldn't wander off just now. There's going to be a celebration feast, and three guesses who's going to be the guest of honour." Arnold's blush refreshed itself at his mother's joking wink in his direction; he was still neither thrilled nor comfortable with being thought of as a deity.

"And apparently we've been force-fed mushed up fruit and roots for the last nine years, so a solid meal sounds just great to me!" Miles chimed in, a hand going to his stomach. It was a strange mercy of the sleeping sickness that the bodies of sufferers degraded so slowly, and that they and the Green Eyes could move at all after such a long slumber, but the illness had still left them all feeble. He was eager to rebuild his strength.

"What about the rest of our class? Don't we need to get back to them?" Arnold was concerned, still gnawed by guilt at placing his friends in their predicament. He had been relieved beyond words when Eduardo received word from his people, confirming that Lasombra's camp and his class had been secured.

"Your friends are being taken back to the city as we speak. I still can't believe you guys came here on a _field trip_!" Miles shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, revealing the origins of Arnold's own nervous tic. "But it wouldn't be safe for us to travel back there at night. Eduardo can escort us all back by boat tomorrow." He withheld the additional reason; that Stella and himself needed time to recuperate before walking more than a short distance. How ironic that years of sleep could leave them feeling so exhausted.

With murmurs of agreement, the group began heading back in the direction of the crowd, Arnold and Helga nervously avoiding eye contact with one another. Helga was desperately trying to fight off the spiralling thoughts telling her that her excuse had been right on the mark; that Arnold was simply grateful for his parents and nothing more. But she held more hope for the two of them than ever before, and the lingering feeling of the kiss still made her feel as though she could fly. Arnold, meanwhile, was fighting his own frustrations; he was eager to continue their talk while he still had the courage, but knew they were unlikely to find a private moment for the rest of the night. Before long, though, both were swept into the celebration, enjoying a colossal feast of exotic fruits, vegetables and roasted pig (Arnold was grateful that Abner was nowhere around). The night air was filled with music, and the delighted hollering of children as they danced and clambered around their newly-returned parents' shoulders. Fires, which had been lit in enormous stone braziers throughout the city, bathed the festivities in a warm orange glow. Arnold, to his continued discomfort, was seated in a large, elaborate throne, the head of which was carved into his own likeness – he was quick to make Gerald promise that the entire 'Arnold worship' aspect of their adventure would never be spoken of again. Helga, of course, made a point of laughing derisively every time a nervous Green Eye approached to reverently lay some new offering at his feet, usually while chanting his name. Her private thoughts, though, were different as always, and it wasn't long before the girl was overcome by her long-standing need to monologue. She slipped quietly away, making _sure_ this time not to be seen by Arnold, and secluded herself at the base of a enormous, moss-covered staircase of carved stone. On instinct, her locket quickly found its way into her clasped hands, to be held tightly to her chest.

"Ohh, Arnold. How many times have I thought of you as my football-headed love god? How many nights have I stood vigil, worshipping you in the secrecy of my own shrine? Of course it comes as no surprise to me, my love, that these people see you as I always have! And now, by your own lips, you have blessed me with hope that you may finally _return_ my feelings of adoration, after so many years of pining in the shadows! You truly are divine, my darling." Her grin then widened at a fresh thought. "Plus, when we get married, I'll officially be a goddess – chew on THAT, _Olga_! _"_

Helga was snapped out of these happy thoughts as the crowd above suddenly became quiet, save for a few gasps and quickly-shushed mutters. Peeking back over the stairs, she quickly understood why; approaching Arnold was an ancient figure. His dark skin was pocked with liver spots, and carved deeply with a network of wrinkles, and his head was bald save for a few long, sparse strands of pure white hair. He advanced slowly, his gnarled hand holding a thick, ornate staff that thudded softly on the cobbled ground as he used it to support his weight. His green clothing, feathered collar and lush red cape identified him as nobility, of some sort, given the similar attires worn by the king and queen, but each item hung loosely from his wizened body. Despite all this, his grin was a mile wide as his sharp, shining green eyes remained locked onto Arnold. The boy looked to his parents in confusion, only to find that they, like the rest of the crowd had gently bowed their heads in quiet respect. All three children were mystified as the grinning man approached, fixated on the boy in the throne. As they looked on, the man painstakingly lowered himself on one knee, himself bowing at Arnold's feet.

" _Ar-nold!_ I am honoured to be in your presence. Thank you – thank you for everything you have done for us!" The man spoke slowly and carefully, his accent thick, but Arnold was still stunned on hearing his own language.

"You... you can speak English? Please get up..." Arnold was more than a little relieved that he could at least understand the strange man, but hated the sight of the old figure on his knees.

"Yes. Miles and Stella taught me some of your language before the sickness took us all, just as I taught them some of our own. It is good to see you well, my friends." The last comment was directed at Arnold's parents, who approached him with a gentle embrace once the old man had risen to his feet.

"It's wonderful to see you too." Stella turned to her son. "Arnold, this is Tiukwí, the spiritual guide of the Green-Eyed People. He's been waiting to meet you for a very long time."

"Waiting is far easier when you are asleep!" Tiukwí joked with a youthful laugh. "But yes, I am very grateful to have the chance. I was already an old man when I felt the sickness begin to take me. I never thought I would wake again. But it seems I have been fortunate." Arnold flushed as the old man lowered his head in another bow, fortunately staying on his feet this time.

"I'm really flattered sir, and it's nice to meet you, but you don't need to bow to me – I'm just a kid!" Arnold prayed that he wouldn't cause offence, but seeing his likeness carved into the walls and being worn as headgear was more than unsettling; he had no desire to pretend to be something he wasn't. To his surprise, Tiukwí laughed.

"You are much more than you think, Arnold. I was there when you came into this world. After lighting the smoke that led Miles and Stella to our temple, I watched the jungle become consumed by chaos and fire. I saw your first cries bring peace to everything. All of nature was still. Even the volcano, the land itself, was calmed by your voice. Can you truly say that was normal?"

"Well no, of course not, but I figure it was just a coincidence..." Arnold persisted in his denial.

"Your parents said the same thing," Tiukwí was undeterred, "but they cannot see what I see. That is _my_ gift; to see the energy that flows within and around us. Yours is a unique spirit, Arnold, and a powerful one. When I first saw you, as your parents brought you out of the temple, your spirit shone like the sun! It still shines now. Whether you believe it or not, your coming saved many lives then, just as it has done today."

The entire conversation was making Arnold feel queasy; he looked down, half expecting to see some kind of brilliant light shining from within, but all he saw was himself; thin arms and dirt-covered hands, skinny, scraped legs in a pair of plaid shorts. A child. He was just Arnold; a tired Arnold in desperate need of a shower, no less. He became aware that the rest of the Green Eyes were still watching the exchange with reverence, though he suspected none could understand what was being said. Feeling their gazes on him made his skin burn.

"So what, are you saying my man is some kind of _superhero_?" Arnold's eyes shot to Gerald when he spoke. Grateful as he was for the interjection, he disliked the eager gleam in his best friend's eyes – he could practically hear Gerald's storytelling mind composing a new legend for kid generations to come.

" _Gerald!_ " He gave the boy a pleading look.

"What? It's cool! You can team up with Monkeyman!"

Tiukwí, meanwhile, looked slightly confused. "What is a 'superhero'?" He listened while a chuckling Miles did his best to translate, laughing heartily along with him once he finally understood. "You body is human Arnold, like the rest of us, but your spirit is one of..." he struggled to find the word, for a moment, "harmony. Far stronger than most. It is your calling to bring peace and unity; it is the core of your very being."

"Yeah, that's Arnold alright..." Gerald, who had been quietly nodding as he heard this, interjected once again. He shrugged at Arnold's dry glare. "Sorry man, but the dude's kind of got you in a box here! You _know_ you always gotta fix everybody's problems."

"Because its the right thing to do!" Arnold was becoming desperate, not to mention frustrated. "It doesn't make me a god because I enjoy helping my friends out!" He calmed slightly when his father placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What we might call a 'god' isn't the same for the Green Eyes, son. They don't expect you to control the weather or fly, or anything crazy like that." Arnold tried to ignore Gerald's dejected 'aww' on hearing this. "It's more that you're revered as a hero; their saviour. They believe that, when you came into this world, your spirit righted an imbalance that would have destroyed them."

Tiukwí's smile had taken on a sympathetic edge, finally acknowledging the boy's discomfort. "I do not mean to upset you, but it is important that you understand what you are. And your father is right; you are more of a hero to us now than ever before."

"But it wasn't just me!" Arnold insisted. "Gerald helped too, and the cure was really all thanks to Helga! Wait... where _is_ Helga?" Distracted as he had been by the bizarre conversation, Arnold only now realised her absence, and he quickly starting to scan the crowd in confusion.

Helga herself had been equally rapt, her jaw having hung open throughout the exchange as she peeked over the steps. The notion of a hidden civilisation worshipping Arnold was one thing; far-fetched and incredible, but evidently true. But the idea of Arnold truly being some kind of 'god' or 'super-spirit', or whatever Tiukwí was trying to explain, was staggering. Somehow, hearing all of this had sent her into 'eavesdropping mode', and she now faced the awkward task of making her presence known. Trying to avoid seeming flustered, she scrambled towards the group.

"HERE! Uh, right here. Just stepped aside for some... fresh air?" She tried to ignore her friends' raised eyebrows at her weak excuse, and did her best to look nonchalant, her hands in her pockets. "So, what'd I miss?"

 _THUNK_

The sharp sound, followed by the rattling of wood against stone, drew every eye back to Tiukwí. The sudden noise had come from his staff, as it fell to the ground from his trembling hand. He was looking at Helga with an expression of utter, blank shock, his old eyes as wide as saucers and his mouth hanging open. He slowly began to take small, unsteady steps towards her, his legs stumbling and weak without his cane, his hand slightly outstretched in her direction. Helga instinctively took a nervous step back, finding herself to the side of Arnold's ornate throne. The rest of the group, along with the remaining Green Eyes, watched the scene unfold with concern, Stella quickly coming to Tiukwí's side to offer support.

"Crimeny, was it something I said? Back off, bucko!" Helga was disturbed by the man's behaviour. She desperately wished that he would say something, or at least blink!

Tiukwí stopped and rapidly babbled something in what the children recognised as the language of the Green-Eyed People, before shaking his head and taking a shuddering breath. "What. Is. Your name?"

"Helga. Helga G. Pataki. What's it to you? You got some kind of problem with me?" Unsettled as she was, Helga's suspicious and defensive instincts quickly kicked in. She was relieved, at least, that the man had ceased advancing in her direction. She was not, however, prepared for Tiukwí to drop once more to his knees. He spoke loudly, again in his own language, causing an outburst of gasps and murmurs from the crowd. Miles, Stella and Eduardo, those who understood what was being said, shared their own looks of astonishment, leaving only the children to share glances of lost confusion.

"HEL-GA!" Tiukwí suddenly called out her name, his tone filled with reverence that, before now, had been reserved for Arnold. The crowd quickly followed suit, chanting as they had done when Arnold first came to the city. " _Hel-ga! Hel-ga! Hel-ga!_ "

All three of their jaws seemed to hit the floor, Arnold and Gerald now staring at an increasingly flushed and panicky Helga. She was the first to speak, the outlandish attention making her seethe.

"Arnoldo, what the _heck_ just happened?!"

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 **A/N I assumed for this fic that Miles and Stella spent some time with the Green Eyes before falling ill.**

 **Hope you enjoyed - feedback is appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2 - A Sacred Place

**A/N A huge THANK YOU to everyone who read, followed, favourited and especially reviewed so far. Hope you enjoy the second chapter!**

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 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 2 - A Sacred Place**

Helga was starting to panic, rapidly becoming overwhelmed by the incredible, sudden situation. Even her most eccentric dreams had never approached this reality; an entire city of people (many of whom were wearing headgear that resembled her Arnold shrine) were bowing and chanting her name, including the king and queen, and the young princess that had ruled in their stead. Those that met her eye wore a look of awe and wonder; the gratitude they had already expressed to the girl for her heroic actions came nowhere close.

She was desperate for clarity, but Miles, Stella and Eduardo were distracted, deeply involved in a heated discussion with Tiukwí in the Green Eye's native tongue. Arnold's parents were waving their hands in confusion, sharing frequent, shocked glances, and Eduardo stood with his hat clutched tightly in his hands, his mouth agape at whatever he was hearing. Only Tiukwí was wearing a look of happiness, his bright eyes actually filling with joyful tears as he spoke. Helga wasn't sure when her hand had found its way into Arnold's, backed-up as she was against his throne, but she instinctively clutched it tightly, though her palms were beginning to sweat. In any other situation she may have shaken off his grip, while suppressing a girlish sigh, but she could barely process her own thoughts. Her head was starting to ache. Helga G. Pataki was far from used to being the centre of so much attention, least of all _positive_ attention such as this.

At least, she _hoped_ it was positive.

What little Helga had seen of the Green Eyes so far would seem to suggest so. After all, they had been nothing but friendly to Arnold, if a little _enthusiastic_ in their praise for the football-headed boy. Regardless, the more 'glass half-empty' corners of her mind quickly started to conjure up images of human sacrifice; the volcano which loomed on the horizon was starting to look a _lot_ more imposing. She also remembered Lasombra's treatment at the hands of the Green-Eyed children; those kids had knives, and were _not_ afraid to use them!

"Don't be scared, Helga." Her head shot round on hearing Arnold's soft voice at her shoulder. It was comforting. The look of deep concern on his face, however, was not. "Whatever's going on here, it's probably just a little misunderstanding..." Helga gave the boy a slanted look; it was more than apparent that he hadn't even convinced _himself_ with that one. At least his words brought her back to reality enough to pull her hand away (old habits die hard, after all) to be placed on her hips. Her trademark scowl was quickly in place.

"Do you _see_ the entire flippin' _civilisation_ bowing at my feet here, Football Head?! Calling this a 'little misunderstanding' is like saying Curly's a _little_ in need of psychiatric help!" Arnold couldn't find it in himself to deny the truth behind Helga's seething comment. Like her, he was just desperately wishing that his parents, Tiukwí, or _anybody_ could shed some light on this turn of events. Seeing the fear behind the frustration in Helga's eyes, he was struck by the urge to hold her. _That_ was new. He had hugged her in the past, several times in fact, but they had been spur-of-the-moment and fuelled by gratitude on his part. He had been reprimanded each time. Never before had he felt the need to hug her to offer comfort. Then again, how often did Helga allow herself to seem vulnerable? In any case, he wondered whether she'd at least let him hold her hand again. He wasn't sure how his hand had found hers, but it had felt... good.

"Arnold's probably right," Gerald offered support, "I mean, let's face it Pataki; if _you're_ a 'spirit of peace', or whatever, then _I'm_ Ronnie Matthews..."

"You know, the _grave_ is plenty peaceful, Tall Hair Boy – want Ol' Betsy to show you the way?" Helga quickly retorted, waving her fist menacingly in the boy's direction, before turning to the nearby adults, her patience at an end. "HEY! Does someone want to explain to us what's going on here?"

Somehow, her brash words seemed to make Tiukwí even happier as he finally addressed her once more. He came closer, though he kept a respectful (and hopefully safe) distance. With a motion of his hand, the remaining Green Eyes ceased chanting. "You. You know him?" Tiukwí gestured in Arnold's direction.

"Nooo, we were both strolling through the uncharted jungle and happened to bump into each other." Helga briefly deadpanned. "Of _course_ I know him, I've known him since preschool." Tiukwí closed his eyes and nodded on hearing this, not seeming the least bit surprised.

"Balance. Balance in all things." He muttered quietly to himself, barely loud enough for the children to hear. "You must both come with me. Please." With his staff, now once again clasped in his bony hand, he gestured in the direction of the city's centre, his free hand rapidly beckoning. Arnold and Helga shared a look of worry; neither were eager to comply.

"Arnold, it's ok," Stella approached, her hands clasped at her waist. "Tiukwí has something that... well... you _both_ really ought to see."

"It's nothing dangerous, we promise." Miles added, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"What do you think, Helga?" Arnold met Helga's eye. She could see the desire growing in him to follow the old man – Arnold always had been bold – but his tone made it clear that he would go nowhere without her.

"I think... that I want some answers. And I'm pretty sure we can take Methuselah here if he tries anything funny." She cast Tiukwí, who was waiting patiently, a sideways glance. "Let's do it."

With a nod, Arnold hopped down from the throne, and the group began to slowly follow in Tiukwí's hobbling footsteps. They heard the feast resume behind them, though the conversation became hushed and serious and the dancing had come to a halt; both Arnold and Helga felt burdened by the tension now hanging in the air, though Tiukwí seemed to radiate eagerness. The boy and girl walked side by side, their hands occasionally brushing, though neither was in a frame of mind to pay much thought to the fleeting contact. They approached the colossal steps leading up to the altar, and to the grand machine that had dispensed the cure, and all three children prepared to ascend. But, to their surprise, Tiukwí halted at the base of the stairs, revealing an almost-imperceptible alcove carved into their side. The light of the fires failed to reach the secluded corner, and the group were bathed in flickering shadows.

"Arnold, come here please." Tiukwí reached for the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder when he complied. Arnold shuddered lightly at the touch, every one of his nerves feeling on edge. "You have the key. Our symbol." After a moment, the boy understood. He swore he could hear his own heart pounding as he fumbled with the string around his neck, quickly producing the small, stone artefact. It was identical to the one given, and then snatched away, by Lasombra. A gift from around the neck of the Green-Eyed king himself, gratefully received. Losing the first amulet had pained Arnold almost as much as losing the Corazón, and now it seemed the relic was also something more. Almost instantly, the object radiated a bright green glow. He heard his parents gasp at the sight, and saw their hands travel to the similar symbols now hanging around their own necks.

"The amulet was gifted to me by the Green-Eyed People. A symbol of their trust in me, I thought." Eduardo quietly murmured at the outskirts of the group, his face seeming mesmerised by the glow, or perhaps lost in memory. "It allowed Stella, Miles and I to decipher their messages to the outside world. Lasombra stole it from me. But I never saw it shine in this way."

Tiukwí, however, simply clasped his hands and grinned, as if the sight served to further validate his faith. Arnold was familiar enough with the strange amulets now to guess the next step; raising it to his eye, he quickly saw a spot illuminated on the alcove, matching the symbol in shape and size. With a further nod from Tiukwí, he pressed the shining trinket into the small nook.

 _THUD_

Arnold jumped back at the almost-instantaneous sound, the symbol losing its glow as it fell back around his neck. Further thumping, grinding noises came from the strange alcove; the sound of an ancient mechanism coming to life for the first time in decades. Stone grated against stone as a section of the wall slowly began to rise, revealing an almost pitch black tunnel and a steep, narrow set of steps that led into the darkness below the city. The children shivered as cold air burst forth from the new doorway.

"From here, I can take only Arnold and Helga with me. The rest of you must remain." Tiukwí quickly saw the despondent looks on the faces of Miles, Stella and Eduardo. "I am sorry, my friends, but you know that this is a most sacred place to us. None but my family and other guides before us have passed this way in centuries; this path has been closed since I was a small child."

"Wait, you mean I can't go either?" Gerald cut in, his shoulders sagging in a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. Tiukwí offered him a sad smile, shaking his head, leading the boy to crossly fold his arms. "Mmm mmm mmm, I _really_ never get to be the chosen one... chosen ones?" He shook his own head before turning to his best friend. "You _sure_ you're sure about this, man? I'm getting a major ghost train vibe from this whole thing."

"I'm sure, Gerald. I'm still not sure I believe any of this, but I need to know." Arnold gave a resolute nod.

"Well, like I always say, you're a _bold_ kid." He offered Arnold one of their signature handshakes before looking towards Helga. "You too Pataki. If you see any ghosts, run the other way!" Helga smirked at the friendly gesture, concealing her own nerves.

"Wow, thanks. If I wind up dying down there, just remember; hurt Phoebe, and it'll be _my_ ghost you'll need to look out for."

During this exchange, Miles and Stella had knelt down to place comforting hands on their son's shoulders, both smiling proudly. "There's really nothing to be afraid of," Miles began, "you're about to see something I'd give my right leg to see! Learn everything you can, ok?" As Arnold nodded, Miles' words brought home the fact that he was truly face-to-face with his father, the anthropologist. He'd been dreaming of this his entire life.

"You'll both be here waiting, right?" As he embraced his parents, he felt reluctant to let them out of his sight.

"We'll be right here, and wide awake. We love you." Apparently his mother shared his sentiment; she held him as though she never wanted to let him go.

Eventually, though, the small family separated. With a final look of agreement, Arnold and Helga followed in Tiukwí's wake, stepping into the dark, claustrophobic confines of the tunnel. Their pace was slow, Tiukwí's old bones creaking with each careful step, and Arnold instinctively took the Green Eyes' symbol into his hand once more to shine a dim light on their surroundings. The sound of their own nervous breaths echoed off the narrow walls, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of Tiukwí's staff on the cold stone floor. Helga, bringing up the rear, had been contemplating taking Arnold's free hand in her own as they reached the base of the stairs, before both children cried out at an, enormous, resonating boom. The door above had swung shut.

They fought to regain composure from the sudden shock, both blushing when they became aware of their new position; Helga had instinctively leapt into Arnold's arms in fright, and Arnold had instinctively caught her. He gulped, bracing himself for the scathing ' _who said you could touch me?_ ' that usually came from these events. But the words didn't come. Instead, he found Helga staring at him, silently transfixed save for her still heavy breaths. Her wide, blue eyes reflected the green half-light, giving them an almost ethereal shine, and the pink tinge to her cheeks was barely visible in the dim glow. Arnold found himself wondering how Helga could be so strong, but still be so light. She felt somehow weightless in his arms. Their faces were close...

"You can probably put me down now." Helga's voice was soft, quiet, and tinged with regret, but Arnold wordlessly complied, setting her carefully on the ground. Their blushes deepened as they turned to see Tiukwí waiting for them, beaming. Nothing more was said as they resumed their pursuit, but their hands remained tightly connected. They did not have to walk far. The short passage opened into a wide, circular chamber, and both suspected they were directly below the city's central altar. In the middle of the room, Tiukwí stood beside a tall, stone plinth, just slightly below Arnold's height. He rested with both hands on his staff as they approached.

"I know that you are both confused. Perhaps I can ease that confusion now. The key must be placed here." He gestured to another small groove, this one located at the top of the plinth. Now closer, Arnold and Helga could see that the stone was etched with lines and carvings which travelled all the way to its base. As Arnold stepped forward, however, Tiukwí held up a hand. "Let Helga present the key."

Helga's brow furrowed on hearing this. "Do you need it to be all glowy? 'Cause it only does that for Arnold."

"Are you sure?" Even in the darkness, Tiukwí's eyes seemed to glint. Helga opened her mouth to retort in the affirmative, but found herself pausing to think. She had held the symbol, helped Arnold decipher the journal, but the two of them had practically been cheek-to-cheek. She had simply assumed... With a hesitant hand, she reached out and took the amulet from Arnold's outstretched palm. As she lifted it away, breaking the contact, she gulped as the glow remained. It was as bright as ever. Tiukwí looked both excited and slightly smug. "Are you beginning to understand?"

"Am I... like Arnold?" Helga managed to voice the question screaming in her mind, though Arnold's jaw had dropped in amazement.

"Place the key here, and I will show you." Tiukwí persisted. Still feeling hypnotised by this new occurrence, Helga slowly stepped forward, taking a deep breath as she set the symbol firmly in the small notch, just as Arnold had done to open the ancient door. The reaction was immediate. In an instant, the green light intensified, dazzling the children's eyes, accustomed as they had become to the darkness. As Helga stepped back, she watched as the light darted and flowed like a bolt of electricity along the myriad veins of the plinth. And it didn't stop there. The children stood side by side, holding their breaths, as the beams of light scattered and spread throughout the chamber in a network of interconnected channels and whorls, moving from the floor to the walls, and eventually to the ceiling, filling the entire room with a startlingly beautiful luminescence. As their eyes fell upon the now-illuminated walls, they realised that the etchings formed pictures, the styles similar to the murals up above, but clearly far older, scored as they were into the stone. As they watched in silent awe, they failed to notice Tiukwí lowering his head in quiet reverence.

"My people have been here for a _very_ long time." Arnold and Helga jolted as Tiukwí finally began to speak. "These walls tell our history. The history of this land." He moved to the wall closest to the stairway, gently tracing the lines with his wizened fingers. The image here was without pattern, the lines twisting, writhing and bending in a formless tangle. Somehow, looking at it made Arnold and Helga's eyes hurt.

"In the beginning, this land was chaos. No balance. No life. Only wild, untamed energy and formless spirits. Then, _she_ came." The next image showed the same discord, though it now surrounded the shape of statuesque woman in a flowing dress. Her arms were outstretched at her sides, as if reaching out into the maelstrom, and her hair was whipped back, giving the appearance of an emerald flame. Her eyes, of course, seemed to shine an even brighter shade of green than the rest of the room, like a pair of priceless gemstones.

"She commanded the chaos, and gave it shape. With her left hand, she soothed the forces of nature, and with her right, she gave the energy new form and purpose. Using these forces in balance, she crafted the land as we know it now." Tiukwí moved to another image, the methodical tapping of his staff being the only thing to break the silence. Arnold and Helga were enthralled by his words; if Gerald was a teller of tales, then the old man was surely a master. The next picture showed the same woman, now kneeling and surrounded by lush jungle. Mountains rose and fell behind her.

"With her voice, she gave form to the formless. She bound the spirits that inhabited the land into the cycle of life and death. So _we_ came to be; her children, and the first people to call this land home." The latest image showed the land now filled with small human figures, the woman looking down on them with a maternal smile. "She taught my people the importance of balance, and of nature. She taught us of the energy that forms this world, and the spirits that exist within and beyond it. But eventually, her work was done. She became tired." Tiukwí stopped in front of the next image, that of the woman now lying back, her body dull and her bright eyes closed. A single speck of light shone from above her chest, brighter than the rest, like a beacon.

"She allowed her own energy to join in the cycle. Her body became one with the land, just as all our bodies shall, in time. Only one trace of her remained with us; her pure heart."

"The Corazón?!" Arnold and Helga shouted in mutual realisation.

"El Corazón." Tiukwí gave a nod, smiling softly. "It is _her_ heart, and so it is the heart of the land itself. It is a..." he struggled for the word, "totem... of the balance of nature. It is our most sacred treasure." He had stopped in front of the final image. This one was familiar; a grinning green idol, a heart shining brightly from its chest. Human figures surrounded it, bowing their heads in worship.

"But we _lost_ the Corazón..." Arnold was despondent, his failure to keep the relic from Lasombra's hands flashing through his mind. Tiukwí simply walked over to the boy, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"El Corazón is a part of us, and so it will return to us. Such is the way of things. We will search for it once our strength has returned. Should anyone keep it from us, others will come forward to bring it home, just as your parents did before."

"Look, this is really fascinating and all," Helga interjected, her usual sarcasm tinged with honesty, "but what has all this got to do with me and Football Head?" Again, Tiukwí grinned. Helga was becoming more than a little infuriated; her attitude seemed to do little more than amuse him, leaving the girl feeling patronised.

"Lasombra first took El Corazón from our temple more than ten years ago. He thought he stole mere gold, but his actions shook nature itself and damaged the balance of the world. Returning the heart alone could not repair the harm he caused. It was Arnold, the strength of Arnold's spirit, that corrected this imbalance. I said before that I can see the energy that flows through us. I see the same energy within you. Just as strong as his, just as unique." His response left Helga incredulous and utterly disbelieving. Much as she hated to admit it, Gerald was absolutely right; a spirit of peace Helga G. Pataki was not!

"So what, you're saying that _I_ came into the world to right an imbalance too?" Despite the snide tone of her question, Tiukwí laughed loud and deep.

"No, Helga. You _are_ the imbalance."


	3. Chapter 3 - A Special Word

**A/N Wow. Just wow. Thanks to everyone who left such kind feedback! I'm simply blown away. I really hope you keep enjoying the story!**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 3 - A Special Word**

"I'm... an _imbalance_?!"

Helga practically hissed the words, sincerely hoping for the old man's own sake that she had badly misheard. Now _there_ was a fresh insult! Just what was he implying? That Helga G. Pataki was some kind of mistake? That she shouldn't exist? She was more than capable of bringing up _those_ unpleasant questions on her own time, thank you very much! Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails were digging painfully into her skin, her knuckles turning white. This was in stark comparison to her face, which was becoming increasingly red; her jaw was clenched every bit as tightly. If her attention hadn't been _extremely_ focussed on Tiukwí in that moment, she may have noticed Arnold's audible gulp; he had a nasty suspicion that, if he had still been holding her hand, his bones would have been reduced to a fine powder. The vast majority of people, or at least those who knew Helga even a little, would probably have followed standard 'duck and cover' protocol. Arnold, though, had always been the sort to throw himself on a grenade.

"Helga, I'm sure he doesn't mean it as bad as it sounds." His voice was soft, low and very, very careful. As he dared to place a hand on her shoulder, he quietly regretted that it was his dominant hand; he tried to reassure himself that people could live full, happy lives with only one arm, and prosthetic technology was remarkable nowadays... But somehow, the gesture worked. He knew it, but he couldn't quite pinpoint _how_ he knew it. The fire in her eyes hadn't burned out in the slightest, and was still blazing directly towards Tiukwí's face – the old man was _still_ grinning, heaven help him – and her body was still as tense as a snake about to strike, but it was like an invisible, inaudible 'all clear' whistle had been blown. Her rage level had dropped from 'ruthlessly homicidal' to 'extremely hazardous'. He could just feel it. Plus, he apparently got to keep the arm as a bonus prize! That being said, he chose that moment to break the contact before he pushed his luck too far; somehow his hand, completely independently and without consulting his brain, had started to gently caress her shoulder with its thumb. He sheepishly wondered whether Helga had noticed; she was a little distracted.

"That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen..."

To the shock of both children, the old man's eyes were brimming with tears again. Arnold might have attributed it to fear, given his narrowly-missed consultation with Ol' Betsy and the Five Avengers, but Tiukwí's grin was wider and more joyful than ever. Helga, unfortunately, was reminded of the look Olga got on her face whenever she saw something adorable. Like a kitten.

"What in the name of crimeny is _wrong with you_!" She threw her hands in the air in exasperation, her brow set in a deep scowl; she was increasingly suspicious that Tiukwí was nothing more than an insane old man. He HAD been asleep for years, after all – that has to do something to a person's psyche. "First you say I'm some kind of freak of nature, then you act like you've seen the face of God in your morning toast! Talk straight and just tell me what you think I'm supposed to be, exactly! And what the heck to you mean 'beautiful'?"

Tiukwí seemed to take several moments to compose himself before responding, looking down at her kindly. "You are _not_ a freak of nature. When El Corazón was stolen, the disturbance allowed your spirit – a _powerful_ spirit – to pass into this world. Perhaps it was accidental. Perhaps your spirit chose to do this. Perhaps it was _always_ your purpose to defeat Lasombra. Who can say? But nature demands balance. Without it, the earth shook. The volcano spoke. Chaos approached, until an equally powerful spirit followed in your wake, his arrival restoring the balance. Am I wrong to think that, of the two of you, Helga came first?"

"No, you're right," Arnold quietly admitted with a small nod. His mouth had become dry on hearing Tiukwí's claim; what the old man was suggesting was frighteningly intense. He wondered just how the deep, dark cavern in which they were standing became so stiflingly warm, and he tugged at his collar in discomfort. "Helga's around six months older than me. Your birthday _is_ in March, right? ...Helga?" He frowned as he looked at the girl; all of her fury seemed to have drained away, and her face now wore a faraway look, as though she had been concussed. She was in the middle of processing something that, for Arnold, had been a terrific shock, but for her was just a slight step beyond Earth-shattering. "Helga, can you hear me?" Arnold waved a hand in front of her eyes, hoping to at least get a blink, but the she was apparently lost deep within her own mind. What Arnold wasn't to know was that the creative recesses of Helga's brain had already begun churning out poetry with the speed and efficiency of an industrial printing press.

"Are you saying," she finally spoke in a small, uncertain voice, barely above a whisper, earning a relieved sigh from the boy at her side, "that our s-spirits are... connected?" A word was starting to form in her head. It was a very special word, one that been the focal point of so many of her dreams, poems and romantic fantasies. The very notion that it might be _real_ – real in a literal, tangible sense – was rapidly becoming more than the lovesick portions of her mind could handle. And frankly, after this many years, that was _most_ of her mind. Suddenly, though, she frowned, remembering the finer points of what Tiukwí had claimed. She spoke again before he could answer. "Wait... So, if I'm 'Spirit A', and Football Head is 'Spirit B', and _he_ supposedly came into the world just to balance _me_ out, does that mean that we're the absolute, polar opposites of each other? Like, are we pre-programmed to be mortal enemies or something?" The thought made her heart sink; she was all-too aware that if you were to ask 99% of the people that knew them both, 'mortal enemies' would probably be the exact term they'd use to describe the turbulent relationship of Arnold Shortman and Helga Pataki. Of the remaining 1%, most would probably say that they barely tolerated each other, and Phoebe would be obligated not to answer. The cavernous chamber suddenly made her feel very small, and she didn't dare look in Arnold's direction.

"Yes and no." Helga grimaced at Tiukwí's response – she had been hoping for outraged denial. Instead, the old man looked thoughtful, rubbing his chin. "You are opposites, yes, I can see that much. But you are _far_ from enemies. You are two sides of the same... equation." His face took on a look of pride, and he addressed Arnold. "Your mother taught me that word – she thought I talked about 'balance' so much that it would be useful." He gave a smug chuckle before continuing. "And the two of you are the _perfect_ balance. Each the perfect answer to the other, making the other whole. Arnold, when you calmed Helga a moment ago, I saw your energies come together as one. I have never seen anything so pure! That is what I meant by 'beautiful'."

His words caused the children to share a wide-eyed, sceptical look. Neither of them had thought their interactions could be called 'beautiful'; usually voices were raised, threats were made, and some part of Arnold's house wound up in need of repair. Not that Arnold knew the half of it. That being said, they knew full well their capabilities as a team, not that it had ever been spoken out loud. Their sandcastles were second to none, they played an exceptional Romeo and Juliet, and their tango had become a thing of legend (though perhaps not for all the right reasons). When they cared for an egg together, the egg had hatched! They weren't sure where Simmons found that carton, but Phoebe had given them an unsettling lecture afterwards on why that shouldn't have been biologically possible... They could also admit that each had a knack for compensating for the other's failings; optimist and pessimist, dreamer and realist. When Helga's vindictiveness caused her to act unfairly, Arnold was there to set her straight. When Arnold's well-meaning plans were about to fall short, Helga was there to pull off the impossible and see the job through, whatever the cost (little did the boy know). Saving the neighbourhood, saving the Green-Eyed People, neither could have been done without _both_ of them, together. The more each of them thought about it, the harder they found it to deny, and Helga's thoughts in particular began to run wild.

' _Could it be true, my love? Dare I hope? Dare I dream that we are indeed kindred spirits, destined to be paired for eternity? Could we truly be – dare I even_ think _it – SOULMATES? Oh, I dare, my beloved, I dare! Surely you can see, my darling, that everything he's telling us is true! We're the perfect team; Helga and Arnold, Pataki and Shortman. Hmm... Pataki-Shortman? Ohh, how long I've admired your gentle, caring nature. Your unfailing, true-blue heart. Your boundless compassion. You're my perfect opposite. Everything I wish I could be. Everything I'm... not. Oh."_

"Hang on a second." Snapping unceremoniously out of her romantic train of thought, Helga found new cause to frown in worry as she considered Tiukwí's words. "If Arnold is supposed to be some kind of 'peace god', spreading love, harmony and all that other kumbaya junk, then what the heck does that make _me_? Some _bomb_ that'll go off if Saint Arnoldo isn't to there to magically balance me out? Some kind of big, bad, hateful _monster_ that can't help but wreck everything it touches?" According to the cruel voices that whispered in her ear during her lower moments, it made sense. They told her she was mean, ugly, unloved. She was Helga the Bully, her one true skill being the ability to push others around and make their day just that little bit worse. A force of destruction with a bright pink bow. Though she tried not to think about it, it wasn't the first time that Helga had wondered whether she might be genuinely cursed for everything in her life to go wrong and fall apart. Is that what it truly meant to be the antithesis of a spirit as pure and giving as her beloved? But before Tiukwí could even answer, she gasped as Arnold seized both of her hands in his, just as he had done earlier that same night, and her eyes were quickly captured by his green gaze. The verdant glow filling the room seemed to further magnify their colour, making them appear all the brighter, as if Helga had trouble getting lost in them before. The suddenness of the contact brought the fresh memory of their kiss flooding back, leaving Helga powerless to stop the ecstatic, lilting sigh that escaped her lips. She rapidly shook her head, lacking a free hand to slap herself, and saw that Arnold's face was set in a deep frown.

"Please, Helga, don't _ever_ say that about yourself!" She blinked in surprise at the boy's agitated tone. "Look at everything you've done today! You saved the Green Eyes. You saved my parents! There was nothing hateful or monstrous about that – it was just you being strong, and amazing. You were perfect." Helga's jaw dropped. No-one, not once in her life, had called her 'perfect'. To hear that now from _Arnold_ of all people... Her heart skipped so many beats that she feared she might pass out, and it took ever ounce of her willpower to keep the shrill, girlish squeal exclusively in her head. Arnold, of course, had quickly looked away, his left hand instinctively shooting to the back of his neck and his cheeks turning pink; it was clear he had allowed himself to get a little carried away, and Tiukwí's chuckle from the sidelines didn't help one bit. He cleared his throat and took back her hand before continuing. "What I mean is, whatever Tiukwí's suggesting that you are, there's got to be more to it than just that. Right?" His question was directed at Helga and Tiukwí in equal measure, but he kept his eyes locked on hers; whatever their differences in the past, he hated the idea that she could think so little of herself. Not after everything she had done.

"Arnold is correct." Tiukwí resumed his kindly smile as he spoke. "Your spirit is like a great fire, Helga, and fire is a force for creation as much as destruction. When fire scorches the land, it leaves the ground ripe for for new life. Though fire may burn, it may also nurture and give comfort. It is a force of _change_ , neither good or evil. Within you I see raw, endless drive, and intense passion. Your potential has no limit."

"Well we already knew that from the fourth grade aptitude test, didn't we?" Helga blinked several times at Arnold's joking mention of the test; it had been a proud moment for her, once the mistake had been cleared up. How sweet, she vaguely thought, that he remembered... His face had fallen into its classic, half-lidded gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. "So you see, it's not bad. It's even got a nice ring to it – Helga G. Pataki, _Fire Goddess_!" He theatrically waved his hands through the air, as if spelling out her name in lights. For the first time since this all began, Helga let out a short burst of genuine laughter, Arnold's smile immediately becoming wide in response.

"I dunno, Football Head..." She tapped her lips in mock consideration. "Don't you think 'Helga G. Pataki, Fire _Demon_ ' sounds a little cooler? Maybe a tad more realistic?" Her mind, of course, was doing somersaults. ' _Arnold just called me a GODDESS!'_

The boy chuckled. "Whatever you say, Helga."

She turned back to Tiukwí, her arms folded, Arnold's words of encouragement having lifted her from her malaise. Her face now held a playful smirk. "Ok, so we've established that I'm pretty darn extraordinary, as if _that_ was news. So, if I'm fire, I guess that makes Arnoldo water?" Her question was only half serious; mostly, she was just worried that if she didn't move the conversation along from the 'let's lavish praise on Helga' stage, her head might finally explode. Tiukwí laughed, but appeared thoughtful at the suggestion, nodding his head.

"It is not quite that simple for either of you, but compared to yourself, Arnold's spirit is more like... air. The breeze that eases the burden. Air is the guide that fire follows, and the fuel fire needs to reach its full potential. Just as it can make a flame larger, a strong enough wind can put the fire out entirely. In this way, he is your counterpart."

"Huh. Well there you have it," Helga patted Arnold's back, her face deadpan, "you're an airhead. Guess that explains how the football stays inflated." The jab earned her a look of gentle admonishment, though Arnold's smirk remained intact.

"Good one Helga." He turned to Tiukwí once more, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. One hand fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt while the other awkwardly rubbed his arm. Everything that the old man had said seemed to point to one thing, one giant elephant in the room, and he could wait no longer to address it. It didn't help one bit that the ethereal lights of the chamber made him feel as though he were standing under a green spotlight. "So, I'm sorry if I'm misunderstanding this, but I need to know. Tiukwí, are you saying that me and Helga are, um, m-made for each other?" Although it was a question that had been burning in the back, and often the forefront, of his young mind for months, the _gravity_ of the question had certainly increased dramatically since hearing what Tiukwí had to say. It was one thing – one very _large_ thing – for the boy to ask himself whether he loved Helga G. Pataki. But to even consider the possibility that the two of them might be literally made for one another, might be actual _soulmates_ , was a little terrifying. Yet somehow, it was also thrilling. Arnold's heart was racing, and for the life of him he couldn't determine if it was out of fear or excitement. And he _certainly_ couldn't look at Helga right now. He wondered just how she would respond to his even asking such a question. A year ago, he would have guessed disgust, nausea, and probably violent retribution. But since that rooftop? Had he dared to actually glance in Helga's direction, he would have seen the girl's eyes nearly bulging completely out of their sockets. While he was going through his own internal debate, the girl was doing everything in her power to remember how to breathe. Her knees were trembling in the stunning revelation that it had been _Arnold_ that actually asked the question, and not her. She wasn't sure she would have even had the courage. She could barely register the concept, even after all this, that Arnold might share her thoughts and curiosities about what the two of them might be to each other.

Tiukwí, amazingly, didn't even flinch, though he considered his response for a moment. "Yes. Well, she came first, so _you_ were made for _her.._."

"Hahaha..." _BOOM._ That did it. With a final burst of half-crazed laughter, Helga hit the floor in a dead faint, Tiukwí's response pushing her past the point of mental overload.

" _Helga!_ " Arnold quickly darted to her side, his face pinched with worry as he knelt next to her, cradling her head. As he absent-mindedly brushed the fresh dirt from her hair and bow, it didn't escape his notice that, passed out though she may be, the girl's face bore a wide, serene smile. While he gently patted her cheek, quietly calling her name, Tiukwí knelt at her other side, his scrawny arms trembling as he struggled to his frail knees. The old man's face was similarly filled with concern. He once again spoke rapidly in the Green Eyes' language, before collecting himself enough to find the translation.

"I do not understand." His voice was heavy with confusion. Had Helga been conscious, she probably would have taken some satisfaction from the knowing grin finally being wiped off his wrinkled face. "She said you have known each other for many years! You have taken all of this so well! Surely _this_ cannot be so great of a surprise? The way your spirits interact, you must always have been drawn to each other."

Arnold blushed gently on hearing this, but didn't take his eyes off the girl in his arms. "Actually, Helga's acted like she hated me pretty much all our lives. I never hated her back, I guess, but she always kind of pushed me away if I tried to be nice to her. I don't think many people would even call us friends." For the first time since their meeting, Tiukwí's face showed a look of abject horror. He looked back and forth between the two children, settling his gaze on Helga before shaking his head in disbelief.

"Poor girl. Silly girl." He muttered so quietly that he may well have been speaking to himself. He looked down on Helga with utter sympathy. "You must have been in agony. Is she alright?" He queried Arnold, the boy nodding rapidly in response. Hearing Tiukwí's last words had only deepened his blush, while also hitting him with a powerful sting of guilt. He couldn't have known Helga didn't hate him, could he? She had put so much effort into hurting him! But then, he had said it himself before their kiss; the truth had always been sitting there somewhere in in the back of his mind. He had always wondered if her cruelty had existed only to cover up something more. Should he have tried harder? Would she have even let him try harder? It had just been easier not to think about it, to stay out of her way when he could.

"I've seen Helga get knocked out a couple of times, actually." He finally shook himself from his thoughts enough to give Tiukwí an answer. "She usually comes to pretty quickly; I think she's got a hard head." He fretted as memories of a rogue baseball resurfaced; this would be a really, _really_ bad time for Helga to get amnesia again...

"Ohh, Arnold, I do... I do..." Right on cue, Helga began to mumble softly, her eyes gently fluttering open. _"_ _Gah!"_ Her eyes bulged wide in shock as she saw the two faces peering down at her. Panic was a forgivable reaction. One moment, Helga had been gazing at her beloved in a suave, black wedding suit, listening to him pledge his eternal devotion, and the next, she was lying prone on a cold stone floor. His grubby face was inches from her own and painted with concern, accompanied by a far less familiar face that vaguely resembled a walnut. Also, her head hurt. The reality of the situation came flooding back to her as she scrambled to her feet, batting away Arnold's outstretched hands and panting heavily.

"Helga, are you-" Arnold's worry hadn't lessened in the slightest. He wasn't to know that for Helga, when he was concerned, swooning was par for the course. And Helga had zero interest in having him realise that now. Despite the chilly air, her brow began to sweat.

"I'm fine! Guess my blood sugar was a little low or something, heh..."

"Really?" Arnold was sceptical. "Because you ate like four portions of roasted pig at the feast-"

" _SO_ ," she loudly interjected, desperate to move the conversation along, "what did I miss? You were saying that Arnold and I were," she nervously cleared her throat and made air-quotations with her hands, "' _made for each other_ ' or something. Obviously a ridiculously laughable idea but hey, I'm slightly intrigued. Tell me more." She did everything she could to hide her excitement, her face the very picture of nonchalance, but she suspected her whole body was slightly trembling.

Tiukwí, on seeing her recover, had painstakingly risen to his feet with Arnold's assistance, but his face had still not lost its look of confusion and pity. The exertion had left his voice shaky. "What more can I say? Your spirits are connected in a way that I never thought possible. The fact that fate brought you together at such a young age tells me as much, and there _must_ have been other signs! I say it again, you must always have been drawn to each other – it is nature itself. I cannot imagine the effort it would take to pretend otherwise." With that, he gave Helga a particularly pointed look. She decided, in retrospect, that she probably preferred his annoyingly persistent grin; his current expression made her feel like she was being scolded. Arnold's thoughts, however, had been elsewhere since hearing Tiukwí's latest claim. Drawn to each other? His mind quickly ran over the many, many, _many_ times that they had collided; by this point they had covered just about every corner in Hillwood. Definitely just bad luck, or weirdly matching schedules. Granted, they sometimes bumped into each other in less likely places, like on the pier at Thanksgiving, and at the same camping ground on their woodland trip. And at the _exact same_ beachside duplex during spring break, miles away from the city... Probably coincidences. Yeah. And sure, Arnold had an odd tendency to notice when Helga _wasn't_ around, even if others didn't, but she was his bully! Of course he paid attention to her! That was _obviously_ just an instinct honed over the years for his own safety. He was starting to get a stomachache...

"I think... we need to talk about this." Helga regarded Arnold's face as he spoke; he looked like he wasn't far from passing out himself. Again, a forgivable reaction, she thought. For a ten-year-old to be told by an ancient, jungle shaman that his lifelong tormentor was in fact his soulmate, and to hear that they were pulled together by some supernatural quirk of physics, was probably kind of a lot to take. She could concede that. But crimeny, did he have to look so _scared_? She really hoped that the green tinge to his skin was just from the lights of the cavern, but the nagging voices were quick to start whispering that this was the reaction _anyone_ would have to finding out they were stuck with Helga G. Pataki for all time.

"S-sure. I think it's fair to say this, uh, _development_ warrants a calm discussion." She slowly nodded her head, suddenly finding their underground setting just a little too confining. Helga was fond of escape routes on general principle. "But maybe not here? Much as I love ominous, tomb-like caves, I keep worrying that ol' Tiukwí here is going to wave that staff and pronounce us man and wife..." She chuckled faintly at her own joke. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the time. For some reason, though, Tiukwí laughed regardless.

"There is certainly no danger of that!" Helga gave a tiny sigh of relief; for a moment she was afraid she had put an idea into the old man's head.

"Well, good, because we-"

"You are already married."

" _WHAT?!_ "

* * *

 **A/N Poor Helga. She's had an emotional day.**


	4. Chapter 4 - The Need for Sleep

**A/N Thanks as always to everyone who left a review! Your feedback means a lot. This chapter ran a little long - hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 4 - The Need for Sleep**

" _WHAT...WHAT...What...what..._ " The children's horrified shrieks echoed back at them from the stone walls, as if the chamber itself had shared in their astounded disbelief. The reverberations persisted, over and over, as if the sound was every bit as trapped as Arnold and Helga themselves were beginning to feel. Beyond that, the scene was utterly still and entirely silent, both of their bodies frozen in place while their fraught minds scrambled to comprehend Tiukwí's latest revelation. Neither even seemed able to breathe.

Arnold was the first to break free of his paralysis, if only for fear of his legs giving way. Backing up slowly, he slumped against the nearest wall, his hand rapidly running through his hair in a fit of nervous tension. Usually it was he who came forward in moments of crisis to offer a voice of reason, a sensible explanation, but he had apparently discovered his limit. What a surprise that Arnold's ultimate mental curveball would somehow involve Helga G. Pataki. What _was_ functioning properly was his imagination, and right now that was occupied by a grinning vision of Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd smugly reminding him that she 'told him so'. Helga, on the other hand, was making a fascinating discovery. As it turned out, _she_ had a limit too. With her brain now firmly pushed several massive steps _beyond_ the point of overload, her ability to panic seemed to simply... break. Instead she stood stock-still, numbly replaying the words in her mind. At least Tiukwí seemed to be observant enough to allow them time to process, still smiling faintly as his fingers drummed lightly on his staff. Somehow the magnitude of the bomb he had just detonated seemed completely lost on the old man.

"O...k." It was Helga who spoke first, through gritted teeth, her thoughts clear but her mouth feeling full of cotton. She took a deep breath, fighting to keep her tone level, and looked Tiukwí dead in the eye. "Since every second sentence that comes out of your toothless old mouth seems to be sending me on the next loop of an emotional freaking roller-coaster, I'm gonna ask this reeeally calmly, so there are _no_ misunderstandings." Her words caused Arnold's head to snap in her direction. From the corner of her eye, she could swear he looked _impressed_. "What exactly do you _think_ marriage is?"

It had been Tiukwí's relative nonchalance about the whole thing that had tipped her off. Not that he seemed bothered by the prospect of delivering life-changing news without blinking an eye. To her continued infuriation, he smiled brightly before responding. "A bond, of course, between two people. To us, marriage is a joyous union of two spirits, forging a link that continues even after our spirits leave this place. _Your_ bond, the one you were born with, is stronger by far than anything I could create. It existed before you even came into this world." Helga let out a long exhale, finally rediscovering her ability to move. Somehow she found herself next to Arnold, slumped beside him against the rugged wall.

"So, just to be clear," Arnold finally spoke, looking more than a little anxious as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "whatever you think me and Helga are, is in no way... official? Like we never agreed to anything without realising it, and we're not _legally_ married, like my mom and dad are? _"_

"You are bonded regardless, but I suppose not." Tiukwí gave a small shrug as the children released groans of relief. Miles and Stella had once tried to explain to him their own concept of marriage; Tiukwí had just found it strange. "But if you like, all we need is a piglet and-"

"NO!" Tiukwí blinked as the shouts from both children firmly cut off that line of conversation, their hands raised instantly in protest.

"I think I need to not be underground any more." Helga half murmured and half whined, her head falling backwards to softly thump against the stone, her eyes drifting closed. Sure, she absolutely, positively wanted to marry Arnold, but ideally that would happen when they were old enough to have a Paris honeymoon without needing a chaperone. Had her eyes been open, she might have seen the look on Arnold's face as he turned to her. Streaks of luminescence scattered out from behind her, the glow at her back surrounding her like a shining aura, reflecting off her light hair and pale skin. To him, in that instant, she looked like an angel.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think some fresh air would be good..." Arnold hoped he didn't sound too breathless. "Tiukwí, can we please leave now? Is there, um, anything else we should know?" What a lame question, he thought; so they were super-powerful spirits, magically connected, alleged soulmates, and were, by the Green-Eyed People's definition, married – anything else to throw on to the pile? He sagged slightly in relief when Tiukwí shook his head.

"I have told you all I can, all I know. Do not imagine that even _I_ understand everything about what you both are. I cannot tell you what you are truly capable of, though certainly you are capable of more together, and I truly have no idea how your bond may develop as you continue to grow. But know this," he seemed to focus particularly on Helga, the exhausted girl's eyes half-open, "nothing is gained by fighting who we are, at the core of our spirits. The is more true than ever for the two of you." The girl sighed, past the point of having the will to react beyond rolling her eyes. "But I see that you are both tired. Come, let us leave this place."

As they stepped away from the wall, Arnold glanced behind him, admiring the glowing etchings one final time. The goddess of the Green Eyes stood gazing down on him, her arms reaching out into the shapeless storm that surrounded her. His fingers gently grazed her own carved hand, the left hand that had brought peace to the chaos, as he stared up into her emerald eyes. As he turned away, his fingertips lingering on the stone, he saw that Helga had inadvertently done the same at her opposite side. They shivered wordlessly as their eyes locked, their hands synchronised as they finally fell away from the surface. Tiukwí waited by the plinth, as he had done before, as Arnold approached to gently pry the symbol from its holding. Together, the three watched as the light left the stone, and the surfaces beyond it, emptiness darting across each vein as the glow trickled and drained away into nothingness. In its absence, the darkness of the cavern seemed more crushing than ever, and Helga found herself drawing close to Arnold, the amulet he carried once more becoming a green beacon. As they headed back in the direction of the stairs, their steps echoing, she found herself filled with an anxious drive to leave the confining place. It wasn't fear, not in the same way as when they first descended. Her mind was overburdened, pushed to the edge by everything she had heard in their brief time with the strange guide, and she needed to distance herself from this place to think clearly again. She needed warm light, and air. It was only when she squeezed it more tightly that she found her hand had once again sought out Arnold's, his grip seeming so rocksteady compared to her wavering nerves, and she focussed all her attention on the feeling of contact, letting it pull her out of her own mind like a tether. The ascension was painfully slow, Tiukwí's geriatric frame painstakingly dragging itself up every step, but eventually, finally, the end of the tunnel came into view. Arnold's hand slipped regretfully out of hers, allowing him to squeeze past Tiukwí and seek the lock, and with yet another heavy thump, the mechanism ground into action. Both children gave a quiet sigh as their faces were hit by a welcome gust of warm, fresh air.

" _Arnold?!_ Hey, is that you? Are you ok?" As the doorway began to grind its way open, the wide-eyed, sideways face of Gerald became more and more visible, pressed firmly as it was into ground as he tried to peek under the stone.

"Yeah, Gerald, I'm fine. We're fine." Arnold hoped he had succeeded in keeping the weariness out of his voice, but he doubted it. The experience had left him drained, mentally and emotionally. Though he heard his best friend's relieved sigh, he also saw his face fall into a frown. Gerald raised himself to his knees as the door continued to rise, revealing his clenched fists.

"Man, don't you _ever_ scare me like that again! When that door slammed shut, I nearly blew a gasket! I didn't spend this whole day following your butt through the jungle just for you to get stuck in some freaky crypt! Whoa..." His frown changed to a look of concern as his eyes finally fell on his friends' faces. "What the heck happened down there? You two look like you've seen a ghost. Wait, uh, _did_ you..?" He trailed off in suspicion, unsure at this point whether a _bona fide_ phantom would even qualify as the weirdest thing of the day. After all, some of the Green Eyes were _still_ softly chanting Helga and Arnold's names in the distance... In any case, he had known Arnold long enough to tell from a mile away when something was on the boy's mind. And from the look on his face, Arnold had a _lot_ on his mind.

"He said we're _fine_ , Geraldo, now quit blocking the exit!" Helga's rough comment nearly made Gerald smile; at least _that_ seemed normal. He watched as the girl shoved her way past him, only to promptly rest against the grand staircase, breathing deeply, her eyes tightly closed and her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. His worry returned; she was just as freaked as Arnold.

"Arnold!" Arnold suddenly found himself pulled from the doorway, and swept into a crushing embrace by his parents. Despite the near-decade of separation, the feeling of their arms holding him tightly felt so incredibly natural, and so wonderful; it was a feeling he looked forward to getting used to. As they pulled away, their hands staying firmly on his shoulders, he felt as though they were drinking in the sight of him with their eyes. How strange it must be, he thought, not for the first time, to see a baby one moment and a ten-year-old the next, with nothing in between. Regardless of their grey hairs and diminished frames, the people kneeling in front of him were his parents, the same couple that had smiled at him from a photograph for as long as he could remember. He was the one who had changed.

"So, son. How, uh, how'd it go..?" Arnold could appreciate the hesitancy behind his father's words, though he could practically hear the questions boiling in both of his parents' minds. How much had Tiukwí told them?

"Did you guys already know about all this? About me, and the Corazón, and why the Green-Eyed People think I'm here?" He carefully avoided bringing Helga into this, for now. If his parents didn't know already, he doubted this was something she would want broadcast. Even Arnold himself wasn't sure just how much of the tale he would share with them, or with Gerald, at least not until he and Helga had talked things out.

"Tiukwí told us the legend," Stella responded, her voice slightly hoarse, "and he told us what the Green Eyes think you are. He even told us about the imbalance they think you corrected, but we had no _idea_ about... Oh, Sweetie." Her face had suddenly spun towards Helga, standing close by, kicking absent-mindedly at the ground. The older woman was stricken by the sight; whatever her son had been through down there, this girl had been through it too, and she was all alone. Without warning, she moved to kneel in front of her, Helga's eyes going wide at the sudden closeness. Warm, gentle hands were on her shoulders. "What about you, Helga? Are you ok?"

"Am _I_..?" The girl was stunned. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. Just... don't worry about me, ok?" The girl looked away with a pout, her arms folded, but Arnold and Gerald still gawped at her reaction; Helga rarely reacted so calmly to unsolicited contact. "But, you know... Thanks." Helga tilted her head to shyly meet Stella's eyes, the older woman smiling warmly in response. The boys' jaws hit the floor, and Gerald moved to Arnold's side.

" _Seriously_ , dude, what _happened_ down there?" He queried in a stage whisper behind the back of his hand. "Is that really Helga?" Arnold rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore his father's quiet chuckle at Gerald's question.

"Hey, I _heard_ that, Tall Hair! If you want proof that it's me, I'll get Ol' Betsy to give you a signature!" This time Gerald really did smile; _there_ was the Pataki he knew, waving fist and all.

"It's a really complicated story Gerald. I'm still sort of processing everything, but I'll tell you about it later, ok?" Arnold's response left Gerald looking uncertain, but Gerald knew better than most how to recognise when Arnold wasn't willing to open up about a subject, at least not yet.

"All right, but don't leave me hanging for too long, ok?" With a reassuring smile, Gerald offered his fist, Arnold giving a small grin in response as they performed their handshake. It felt familiar, and on the strangest night of his life by far, Arnold felt like he really needed familiar. Glancing over to where his mother stood with his supposed soulmate, he came to a further conclusion. He _really_ needed to talk to Helga soon.

" _Mis amigos_ ," Eduardo suddenly appeared, a walkie-talkie clutched in his hands, breaking Arnold from his train of thought, "I have just heard from my people. The rest of your group made it safely to the city. They have been reassured that the children are safe, however I understand some of them have been causing issues..." He awkwardly scratched beneath his hat.

"Figures. They probably needed to dart Curly to drag him out of that jungle, twisted little freak..." Helga muttered.

"Actually, it was some of the adults." Eduardo rubbed his chin, seeming bewildered. "Apparently an insane old woman keeps trying to commandeer our boats to come find you, saying it is her right as a commanding officer, and a very large, loud man keeps threatening to _sue_ Helpers for Humanity and every one of my men personally if we don't provide a hotel room with cable, reimburse he and his wife's flight from America, and return Helga safely." Arnold and Helga exchanged a shocked look.

"The crazy woman trying to pull rank sounds kind of like my grandma..." Arnold began.

"And the big, angry blowhard sounds a heck of a lot like Bob..." Helga concluded. "And he flew here with his _wife_? Miriam can barely handle a day at the beach! Can't this whole trip just stop being insane for _two minutes_?" Arnold could only shrug helplessly in response. The idea that their families had somehow travelled to San Lorenzo was outlandish, but to say that stranger things had happened was by now a _vast_ understatement.

"Wait, your grandma?" Miles suddenly interjected, "My _mom_ is here?!" The older man seemed torn between excitement and horror, falling backwards to sit on the cobbled ground. He rubbed his forehead, seeming slightly frantic. "Oh man, I've been gone for nine years... Her and Pop are gonna _kill_ me! Stella, does my hair look ok?!"

"Um... They'll probably just be _really_ happy you're alive, Dad." Somehow Arnold wound up being the one to give his _father_ a comforting pat on the back. A lifetime of training in action. Miles clasped his son's hand, calming down with an embarrassed grin.

"In any case, they are waiting for you." Eduardo pressed on. "The journey tomorrow will be long, and we must leave early. I suggest you all rest and gather your strength."

"And I must speak with my king and queen." Tiukwí added. "My people have much work to do. I will see all of you in the morning. Arnold, Helga, thank you for listening to an old man. Know this; whether or not you choose to believe everything you have learned tonight, the fact that you are _heroes_ to us is undeniable. You too, my young friend!" He finally included Gerald, giving the boy a sincerely grateful smile. "Thank you all." With that, Tiukwí departed in the direction of the now-dwindling feast, where the rulers of his people waited on their thrones. The group watched him leave for a while before Helga spoke, her face flat.

"Nice guy. Pretty sure he's the spokesman for culture shock." Given the ups and downs of their conversation, the girl had been left with _very_ mixed feelings about the old man. "So where do we sleep?"

"The Green Eyes have a place for us," Stella responded, smirking slightly at the girl's jab, "this way."

Following the lead of Arnold's parents, the group moved through the now-quiet city, their path illuminated by the flickering fires of the braziers as they ascended up each tier. The low sounds of chatter and music from the Green Eyes still celebrating drifted through the air. As they passed each hut and dwelling, faint shadows moving behind the curtain doors, Arnold found himself wondering how many families had been reunited that day, just like his had been. There had been so many children, every one of them feeling the same loss he had felt for the last nine years. Were they all dreaming now, secure in the knowledge that their parents would be there when they woke up? He was struck by the realisation that, unlike him, the Green-Eyed children had known _exactly_ where their parents were. Feeding them, watching them, caring for them while they slept. Maybe that was worse than not knowing at all; having your parents there, but not there. So close, yet so far away. The thought made the night seem colder, and Arnold found himself clinging to his mother and father at either side of him with gently trembling hands. They reached their destination eventually, a pair of huts slightly larger than the others on the upper level of the round city. Neither was the tiny dwelling that had been Miles and Stella's 'home' during their slumber; they had slept in that place for far, far too long. Apart from its size, though, each hut offered little beyond several hard slabs for beds, colourful fabrics having been laid out for sheets.

"Not exactly the Ritz... You'd think being worshipped would come with better perks." Helga muttered, regarding the room with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'd say you get used to it, but you really don't." Miles nodded in agreement, his hand absently travelling to his back. Even before his long sleep, he had never been able to adjust to nights on the Green Eyes' rigid excuses for beds. "But it's just for a few hours. How, uh, how should we do this? Do you kids want to stay together, or..?" He rubbed the back of his neck, the room suddenly becoming awkward. An unasked question hung in the air.

"Can I... stay with you guys? Please?" Arnold's face flushed. Some unfamiliar and long-unneeded part of his young brain told him that he was too old to want to sleep with his parents, but he pushed those thoughts aside; he wasn't ready to be apart from them again yet. He wasn't over the fear that if they left his sight, or if he fell asleep, then they wouldn't be there any more. His trip beneath the city had been difficult enough, but the burning need for answers had driven him forward. Now, he just wanted to be close to them.

"Of course you can, Honey." Stella eagerly responded, nodding rapidly to conceal watery eyes, her hands clasped tightly together. Both she and Miles clearly shared Arnold's thoughts on the matter, and their bodies seemed to relax in relief at Arnold's suggestion. At the knowledge that even after missing so much of his life, even after he had become so grown without them, he still _wanted_ them. They had so much work to do, they both knew; they had left a baby in Hillwood, and now, nine years later, their son stood before them, a total stranger save for the same blue hat. But he wanted them, and God, they wanted him. And that was more than a start.

"You, your mom and I will take the room next door, and Helga and Gerald can stay in this room with Eduardo." Miles nodded just as enthusiastically before turning to the non-Shortmans of the group. "Is that ok with all of you?" Eduardo simply smiled and nodded his head. Helga and Gerald, however, exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Neither were overly keen on the arrangement, but equally, neither even needed to look at Arnold to understand how much meaning this had to the boy. The glance quickly changed into a resolute look of unspoken agreement.

"Sure, by this point I'm bushed enough to sleep anywhere." Helga shot Gerald a mild glare. "Just try to keep the snoring to a dull roar." Gerald rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, it's cool with me too. You guys get out of here and we'll catch you in the morning when we're all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Or Helga." Gerald contained his chuckle at Helga's low growl.

And so the group began to separate for the night, the boys exchanging a final handshake and Eduardo embracing his old friends. Helga simply waited, tapping her foot impatiently, trying to ignore the 'mushy' sentimentality filling the room and focussing her attention on the window, peering out over the city. Her mind had cleared a little since leaving the ancient chamber, though her incredulous shock at the whole thing hadn't lessened one bit. She was excited, she knew that much; in fact, she suspected that her numb response to the episode was purely due to excitement overload, like two people trying to move through a door simultaneously and getting stuck. Actually, this felt more like two _hundred_ people getting stuck. It was all too much. Arnold was her _soulmate_! Arnold had caught her, held her hand, called her _perfect_. He _kissed_ her – she _still_ wasn't sure if her all the electricity had left her body from that one! The fact that she had only fainted once could be considered a great personal victory; in a single night, more of Helga's dreams had come true than she had ever dared to imagine. Normally, she would have woken up hours ago. And yet... He never said that he loved her. He never said that he even ' _liked her'_ , liked her. Maybe he really was just grateful, and impressed. Sure, he accepted her feelings, whatever that had meant, but where did that leave them? And how was he supposed to react now, after hearing everything Tiukwí had told them. What ten-year-old wants to hear that they've already been paired up for eternity? Well, Helga did, but she had long ago decided that she was crazy, or as Dr Bliss put it, 'felt things very deeply, blah blah blah'. Arnold was only human... more-or-less... and she had seen the fear on his face as he listened to the old man's words. What if he had been scared away? Could the best news of Helga's life have put her firmly back on square one? She _really_ wished she had a notepad – she felt a poetry blitz coming on. With all the excitement, she hadn't even been able to slip away for a soliloquy. But suddenly, once again, she was yanked from her thoughts by a pair of skinny arms, this time encircling her. Was Arnold going to make this a habit? Because she could get used to that.

"Goodnight Helga. I'll see you in the morning, ok?" His face was level with her shoulder, but if felt as though the soft whisper had come from lips right by ear. His words seemed to carry more than just what was on the surface. The sigh escaped, as she suspected it always would no matter how hard she tried, but Helga quickly spotted the faces of the rest of their group. They had those _looks_ again; Gerald's knowing grin and the Shortmans gazing at them like they were most adorable thing in the world. She firmly, but with gentle restraint, pried Arnold away from her. She hoped that he could see the sincerity behind her eyes as his and hers met, though she was smirking.

"Yeah, yeah. Catch you in the morning Foo-, er, Arnold." Her eyes quickly darted in Stella's direction. "Don't let the colossal, venomous, jungle bugs bite – you'd make Nadine jealous." Arnold gave her one of his own half-lidded smirks in response, his arms falling to his sides.

"Whatever you say, Helga." With that the Shortmans departed. There was little in the way of conversation in their absence. Eduardo was exhausted, given his recent chase and tussle with the murderous river pirate, his mind equally drained at having recovered his friends and finally witnessed the mysterious Green Eyes first-hand. It had been a truly exciting day, though a day he would only suggest experiencing once. The children were fatigued too, not that conversation between Helga and Gerald came naturally in the absence of their best friends. Curious as Gerald was, he had the sense to know that what he couldn't get out of Arnold, he _certainly_ couldn't get out of Helga G. Pataki, and the girl's 'leave me alone' aura was in full force. They curled up, each to a stone bed, and did their best to get comfortable, all of them as eager for the next morning to come as they were for sleep. Gerald and Eduardo quickly drifted away, drained from their adventure, but the pigtailed girl did not. Her mind was too busy spinning.

The feeling in the air of the other hut was far more complex. Arnold had suddenly found himself alone with his parents. Alone in their company for the first time since he could talk. He had so much to say, and no idea where to begin. And he was tired... Just as Helga's mental 'door' was jammed with excitement, Arnold's was blocked tightly with too many questions. He wanted to be with his parents, to spend the next few days, months or years sitting comfortably with them and finding out who they were, sorting through the endless adventure stories passed on by 'Steely' Phil and disseminating fact from fiction. He wanted to find out their favourite foods, their hobbies, their favourite movies. He was only just starting to let himself believe that there was time now, and with time, he could have everything. Right now, though, so much of his mind had been filled by Helga, and by Tiukwí's revelations. He even felt a sting of guilt! He had dreamed of and pursued his parents so avidly, and now that they were here in front of him, some part of his mind seemed to be viewing them as a _distraction_ from the dilemma at hand; just what the old man's claims meant for him and the girl with the pink bow. Though this reality made him ashamed of his own brain, the need to talk things through with her dominated his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to set them aside.

Miles and Stella, of course, were just as desperate to know their son as he was desperate to know them. But where can one possibly start a conversation like that? 'So, do you like school? What's growing up in the boarding house been like? We couldn't help notice you kissing Helga back there – is she your girlfriend?' That last one was a real kicker; the truest reminder that the early part of their son's life was coming to a close. And they had _slept_ through it... Had he been able to feel their feelings, Arnold would have discovered that he didn't even know what 'guilt' was. And now, the three of them stood awkwardly in a dark, stone hut. The need for sleep didn't help matters one bit; Miles and Stella were fatigued, a battle with Lasombra paling in comparison to the effort of walking up a few flights of steps. The beds called to them, and that call was terrifying. They knew the sleeping sickness, and they knew their own medicine had cured them, but the idea of surrendering themselves to sleep once more bordered on sickening. That, and the knowledge that sooner or later they would have absolutely no choice. For now, at least, their exhausted bodies could provide a crutch to help their minds be carried away despite the fear.

"So..." All three spoke at once, father and son's hands travelling to their necks in unison, the sight making Stella's hand jump to cover her mouth. It suppressed something, a giggle or a sob. Maybe both.

"It's been a very, _very_ long day." She finally spoke, her tone only a little unsteady as she addressed her son. "I can't imagine how much we have to talk about. And we will, with all my heart I promise we will. But you've been through so much today, more than your father and I can imagine, and you have to rest. We should... sleep now." She gave an almost imperceptible shudder. "We can talk about everything tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after that, until we're all... c-caught up." Her hand came up again, her own words finally bringing her to overwhelmed tears. In an instant, her husbands arms were around her shoulders, and her son's were around her waist, their own eyes every bit as watery as each desperately soaked in the moment. They were together again. Unlike their neighbours, the Shortmans wound up in an not-entirely-comfortable heap, Miles and Stella holding each other close on a slab barely bigger than a single bed, with Arnold tucked tightly between them. Hardly the easiest position in which to doze off, but exhaustion is a powerful thing, and the adults quickly began to dream.

But Arnold couldn't join them.

No matter how hard sleep tugged at his eyes, no matter how long he held them closed, no matter how incredibly safe and warm he felt with his parents beside him, Arnold's mind continued to churn. He lost track of the time he spent listening, taking in the sounds of his parents breathing. So his dad was kind of a snorer; check that one off the list. The final remnants of the feast had drifted away, and the city was near silent. Only the sounds of the jungle drifted in through the window, the humming of insects and the roaring of the cascading waterfalls that flowed nearby. Less identifiable calls echoed from the distant trees, beyond the city walls. Soon, he would go back to Hillwood. He would lie under his skylight, and listen to the concrete city's own unique roars and cries, the one's he was used to. His skylight. Arnold decided, then, what his troubled mind needed. With agonising care and slowness, and more than a little regret, he wiggled his body free from his parent's embrace. He needn't have worried; their sleep may not have been down to any sickness, but for now it was every bit as deep. He turned back to them, before heading to the door. He looked at their faces. The sickness, when it had gripped them, had left their skin a pale grey-white, as if they were truly dead. Now, their skin was rosy, tinted with life. They would be here when they came back, he promised himself. He was barely going past the door. Arnold needed to look at the sky. With silent steps, he left the hut, passing through the thin curtain, sparing just one last look back.

 _CLUNK_

" _OW!_ " With a pair of soft thuds, and a pair of sore heads, two blonde children found themselves lying next to each other on the cobbled ground between the huts in which neither could sleep. The moments that followed were filled by stunned silence.

"So. It happens in other countries too." Helga finally spoke, her voice filled with disbelief, blinking rapidly. Arnold could do nothing bust release a small gasp of laughter through his nose. That laughter grew, and grew, and became contagious, and within moments, both Arnold and Helga were clutching their sides, tears streaking down their face as they rolled in gales of quiet laughter.

"Y-you c-couldn't sleep eeeither?" Arnold barely managed to force out the question between his giggles. Helga cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, finally regaining enough composure to sit up.

"Heh, nope. I feel like I ran the Hillwood marathon with rocks on my arms, but my dumb brain won't switch off. You?" She glanced over to the boy as he finally got control of himself, rising to sit beside her as he dried his own face. She had needed to see him, the compulsion eventually dragging her from her bed and out of the hut.

"Same. I think Tiukwí might have broken it..." Helga let out a soft laugh at his joke. He wasn't wrong. "Plus, my dad snores." Arnold grinned madly at being able to say that, and he threw his hands into the air. " _My dad snores_! I am now a kid that can complain to his friends that his dad snores! I can't believe all this is happening. Helga, _thank you_."

"Friends, huh?" Helga's smile was a complex one. Seeing her Arnold so happy, so utterly giddy with delight, filled her with a warmth that she couldn't even describe. But she still had so many questions, most of them downright huge. What were they now? All weirdness, spirits and mysticism aside, was she just a friend to him? One of the crowd? She doubted her mind would let her rest until she knew. Her hand absently drifted to the locket _both_ now knew was hidden against her chest, and she avoided meeting his eye. Arnold noticed, his delight trickling away, leaving the pair in contemplative silence.

"I wanted to look at the stars." he finally spoke after a long pause, staring up into the night sky. "It's what I do back home, when I can't switch off. I turn off my lights and I just watch the sky."

"Well if you're homesick, you might be out of luck – Hillwood this ain't." Helga leaned back with him, gazing upwards. "We get, what, a handful of stars max? And a couple of choppers? Unless you and Geraldo get the whole city to go dark, that is." She shot Arnold an impressed smirk, to which he grinned sheepishly, before looking up once more. "You can see the whole Milky Way from here." She let out a soft sigh. It was true; this was a far cry from the cloudy, smoggy, light-polluted sky of Hillwood. It was a light show to rival anything mankind could make, a trillion shining pinpricks, each with their own faint, unique hue, some so densely packed together as to resemble a pale mist streaking across the darkness. And there was the moon, full and glowing. A poem started to form in Helga's mind. ' _Oh, most luminous orb in the indigo sky..._ ' She would come up with rest later.

"Do you know what I love most about the night sky?" Arnold turned to Helga, his grin still in place. The moon had brought a strange dream back to his mind, and the soft, wide smile on Helga's face as she gazed at it made his heart flutter. After a moment she turned to meet him, green eyes locking with blue, tilting her head as she waited for his answer. "When the sky is clear, and the stars are all out, it can look like there are just a few specks of light against this huge black backdrop. But if you look in one place long enough, even if it seems like there's nothing there but emptiness, you start to see that there are stars there too. You just have to be a little more patient."

"Spoken like a true Mr Brightside..." Helga's voice was faint, trailing away to nothing. She was staring at the boy she had loved for eight long years, watching the bright elation play across his face. She didn't think it was possible for her to fall even deeper in love with him, but in that moment, she did. Heaven help her, she did. The feeling of warm fingers gently brushing against her own told her that their hands had once again come into inexplicable contact, but she couldn't tear herself away to look down. She wasn't even sure how she was breathing. His emerald eyes seemed to be growing larger, and she registered a dull shock in her chest as she realised it was because they were coming closer. She wasn't sure if he was leaning towards her, or if she was leaning towards him, or whether each was leaning towards the other. Across from her, Arnold was wondering the exact same thing, as both of their eyes fell closed.

Their lips brushed.

The feeling was instant, pure lightning coursing through the both of them, racing back and forth from the top of their heads, to the tips of their fingers, through their chests and down to their feet. Their fingers reflexively curled, gently intertwining, as the energy persisted from the initial contact and through each subsequent, gentle peck. Helga couldn't feel the cold ground underneath her any more, or the chill breeze that flowed from the nearby waterfalls. She couldn't hear the sounds of the jungle, or feel the aching of her tired body. There was only Arnold, carrying her away, leaving her weightless. It couldn't last forever. With a final, chaste touch, their lips parted, each of them opening their eyes just enough to see the other. Their faces remained inches apart.

"Helga?" Arnold was the first to speak, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Mmhm?" She had no words to respond.

"Can we have that talk now?"


	5. Chapter 5 - Deep, Uncharted Waters

**A/N Well this turned into a _long_ talk... Hope everyone enjoys. Thanks as always for the amazing feedback, it's always hugely appreciated!**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 5 - Deep, Uncharted Waters**

What a shame; Helga had been having such a pleasant flight. Her body had been drifting lazily through the air, all her cares and troubles trapped on the ground, miles below. She was practically in orbit. Arnold's words had the effect of an anvil being strapped to her leg, bringing her plummeting back to Earth. Or at least, that's what the sudden, twisting, lurching feeling in the pit of her stomach reminded her of. Helga came to a funny realisation about that unpleasant sensation at that moment; it's your body doing you a favour. All that adrenaline, all that horrible, instant alertness, is telling you one thing, loud and clear; 'brace for impact'.

"That t-talk..?" Her half-lidded eyes had shot to full, bulging wideness, and it was only as she instinctively pulled back that she realised their hands were still connected. In fact, her grip seemed to have tightened even further; she was surprised it wasn't hurting him. Actually, he seemed to be clinging on to her just as strongly, as if he were holding on. Maybe he thought she might run away. Granted, she was capable of it – _very_ capable – but she suspected that sprinting blindly into the dense, mysterious jungle might have interesting consequences...

"I know, Helga. I know this isn't the greatest time to do this." Arnold's own face had fallen in response to the growing distance between the two. Like her, he had let the feeling of their kiss simply carry him away on a cloud. But Arnold was Arnold, and when something was on his mind, it wasn't in his nature to let the matter rest. Arnold was proactive, and right now, he _hated_ that about himself. But this couldn't wait any longer. "I know we're both tired, but I really feel like we need to talk this out while it's still fresh in our heads! And I don't know about you, but I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to sleep until we... wrap our brains around all this. Please?" He could practically hear the scales of judgement weighing in Helga's mind, practically see the war being fought behind her eyes. All he could do was squeeze her hand, his eyes pleading. He couldn't force her to do this if she really didn't want to, he knew that, but he could at least try to show her he was earnest. "You, uh... you did agree before..." He added the reminder, hoping it would tip the balance. The only question was, in which way. He braced himself for the worst.

"I... did, didn't I." Arnold let out a breath he had no idea he'd been holding when, after an endless pause, Helga finally responded. Her voice was filled with uncertainty – and maybe fear? – but it was also calm. More importantly, it was resolved. "A 'calm discussion', right? Can't have you telling the whole school that Helga G. Pataki isn't a woman of her word, heh." The sarcastic quip fell flat, a vain attempt to hide her growing terror. But she couldn't turn back now. It was done. She had agreed to 'the talk', taken that first blind leap. Or _was_ it blind? Helga was a pessimist – a card-carrying cynic and proud of it – but even _she_ could maybe see light at the end of this tunnel. He had kissed her again! That made _twice_ in one day (assuming it wasn't past midnight, but who was counting). And it had been, to put it mildly, mind-blowingly, jaw-droppingly, hair-standing-on-end amazing! Sure it wasn't as 'passionate' as the FTi kiss, but in many ways it had been so much better; for one thing it was mutual... And even Arnold couldn't call it 'heat of the moment'. It had been a moment, sure, but not an adrenaline-filled rush. It had just been... beautiful. And natural. And wasn't that what _couples_ had? Beautiful moments? For the first time in eight years of quietly praying for Arnold's affections, Helga honestly liked her chances. Of course, that made the alternative outcome an even more crushing prospect... The girl released a long, _long_ exhale, as if trying to expel every deep-rooted old doubt and fear from her body. "Ok Football Head, let's do it. Let's talk."

With a nod, and an extremely grateful smile, Arnold rose to his feet. "Let's go over there." With his free hand he gestured to the wall that bordered their tier, where a small section was flanked by the lush foliage that climbed the full height of the city. "I don't want to wake anybody, and I kind of figure both of us would like this to be private." He glanced away at that last comment, the low darkness failing to hide the tint that blossomed on his cheeks. Helga, who had been in the process of rising to join him, stumbled slightly on hearing the words. ' _Crimeny, is he trying to make my legs give out again? What the heck does he mean by 'private'?! Like, 'nobody will see you crying your eyes out when I smash your heart like a melon' private, or 'nobody will see us kissing until we can't feel our lips any more' private? I think I'm having an aneurysm..._ ' Her higher mental functioning being otherwise occupied, the girl could do nothing more that steady herself and nod dumbly at the suggestion. Without a word, to Arnold's slight relief, they moved away from the huts and towards their new destination. It was a pretty spot, to put it mildly. From their position on the highest level, they could see the entire ancient city laid out beneath them; a jungle ruin straight out of an adventure novel, but somehow still occupied and full of life, bathed in pale moonlight. Beyond that, stretching into the distance, was the thick, deep green ocean of treetops, appearing near-black under the night sky. And beyond that were the mountains, Volcán Turriable silently lording over it's smaller siblings like a fiery king, their gigantic silhouettes looming over the jungle below as they dominated the horizon. A perfect backdrop for a life-changing discussion, one way or another. The challenge was _starting_ the discussion. Arnold found himself leaning on the wall, his chin resting on folded arms as he stared into the distance. Helga reclined against it too, her back to the stunning view and her arms clutching her body. She was too deeply set on keeping her composure to focus on anything else. Any involuntary trembling she could blame on the night air. And if tears came, well, the jungle was probably full of strange, exotic allergens that were ripe to take the blame. In any case, she needed him to speak soon while she still had a trace of control.

"You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Helga's head spun so fast that she may have risked whiplash, the eyes in question immediately going as wide as saucers. Even her arms, which had been wrapped tightly around herself, fell limply to her sides. The words had been so quiet, she was _sure_ she must have misheard. Or maybe her Arnold-crazed mind had finally reached the point of taunting her with his voice when she was both asleep _and_ awake. But what she saw made her realise the truth; Arnold looked as though every inch of his face and neck, right to the tips of his ears, had been painted red. He still wasn't looking at her. In fact, he now seemed _doubly_ determined not to look at her.

"... _What_ did you say?" Helga was almost afraid to speak. Whatever illusion this was, she could live there quite happily and had no interest in breaking it. Finally Arnold tilted his head to give her a sideways glance, like he was afraid to meet her eye. Her observation was more-or-less on point; Arnold _needed_ this conversation to go well, and he didn't want to get... flustered.

"I said your eyes are really pretty. Uh, beautiful, actually. They're really blue..." Not quite as smooth as the first attempt, but at least Helga was certain the words were real this time. Helga could only stand with her jaw hanging open, small noises of disbelief squeaking in the back of her throat. With a deep exhale, Arnold finally turned to look at her fully, his hands coming to fidget at his waist. "I didn't know where to start, so I figured it might... break the ice." Seeing Helga's brow immediately rise, his quickly brought up his hands in defence. "N-not that I didn't mean it! I really do, I just..." He let out a weary sigh, his hands falling back. "I'm _bad_ at this."

Now _that_ was hard to believe, Helga thought. Arnold was like a great orator in training! He had talked Harold _and_ Curly out of separate anti-authority stand-offs. He had convinced the crabbiest author of all time to start writing again. Heck, he had convinced her, _Helga G. Pataki_ , to behave like a moral human being on multiple occasions, and all with the power of his words. The only time Helga had seen him this flustered (FTi aside) was during the infamous _Lila_ period of the boy's life, when he was trying to... Oh! Suddenly, that light at the end of the tunnel seemed a little brighter, a little closer. It gave her courage, yes, the amazing courage to stand still and _not_ bolt in the other direction. Hopefully, words would quickly follow suit. Until then all she could do was silently will him forward with her eyes.

"I was planning to say more to you back at the altar. There was... a lot more stuff I wanted to talk with you about." He was still fidgeting, and Helga wished he would stop; it would be much easier to regain her composure if he'd stop looking so cute. "But then we got, uh, interrupted, and then _Tiukwí_ happened. And now everything just feels so much more _complicated_. I don't even know what to think about all this. Do you?"

He was pulling her into the conversation. It was time to shake off the paralysis and find her voice. "You like my eyes?" Helga mentally facepalmed. ' _Idiot! He's asking if you believe that the two are you are genuine, one-in-a-billion, eternally bonded soulmates, and THAT'S what you take from it?! Get a sense of priorities! Creepy 'jungle marriage' stuff aside, this is like something out of your wildest dreams! DO. NOT. BLOW THIS!_ ' She managed to shake herself out her internal monologue before he could respond to her first question. "W-well, the way I see it, Football Head, we've got two options. Option one; we are mighty spirits, crossed over from another plane to smite Lasombra!" She waved her fist in mock-threat, before shrugging. "Or because he 'broke nature' enough for us to slip through, and we thought 'meh, what the heck, its boring here.' Dealer's choice. Our powers are vast and our potential for greatness knows no bounds! Or at least _I'm_ all those things. _You're_ the nice little spirit that tagged along after me to make sure I don't lose my temper. Also you might be the key to world peace and universal harmony or something, I dunno." Again, she chastised herself. ' _Way to go Helga ol' girl, be CONDESCENDING to him. That'll work a treat._ ' At least Arnold had taken the first 'option' with a wide, amused grin so far. He was even chuckling. Time to go for the gold. Helga clasped her hands in front of her and batted her eyelashes, trusting in sarcasm to hide the sincerity in her next words. "Plus, we're apparently beautifully matched soulmates, each the one true love of the other. Each the thing without which the other can never be whole. Pre-designed by the cosmos to fit together in perfect balance. Drawn to each other by the mighty forces of fate and nature itself!" She took a moment to breathe and check on Arnold's reaction. He looked flushed, embarrassed, a _little_ apprehensive and overwhelmed, but not repulsed. ' _Nailed it!_ '

"Let's call that the 'Exciting Option'." Helga pressed on, eager to keep her momentum. She was trying to make a sale here. "Option two is that Tiukwí is an _extremely_ old man who just woke up from an _extremely_ long nap. He's developed dementia to the point where he mistakes those eye floater things that people get sometimes for magical auras. _You_ just happened to cry at the _exact_ moment that volcano stopped erupting, and every animal in the burning jungle simultaneously shut up to enjoy your annoying wailing. Tiukwí saw this and jumped to the _perfectly_ understandable conclusion that you were basically a god. There is nothing special about either of us apart from your head shape, no matter how many times Simmons tells us otherwise, and Tiukwí spun the whole 'made for each other' yarn to try and get you a date. Let's call that the 'Sad Option'." Her words seemed to have the desired effect of wiping the smile from Arnold's face. She kept Option three to herself: ' _Eating enough portions of roast pig has caused the same effect as eating a bag of pork rinds. I am currently asleep at the feast having the greatest and most vivid dream of my life, but will ultimately wake up trying to climb next to Arnold on that goofy throne to be worshipped as his queen._ '

"Now, _I'm_ always of the opinion that there's just not enough magic in the world, and the whole 'unlimited potential' thing sounds just peachy, so I would _probably_ cast my vote for the Exciting Option. Buy, hey, that's just me. Your thoughts?" Helga finally came to rest, taking a breath and leaning against the wall in what she hoped was a nonchalant position. She tried to maintain the toothy but hopefully not-too-eager smile on her face as she waited for Arnold's response. And she hoped her brow wasn't sweating too profusely...

"Honestly? I have no idea!" Arnold was immediately deep in thought once more, causing Helga's face to fall. Was a dramatic confession of eternal love too much to ask for? "I mean, when Tiukwí was talking, it was so weird how much of it made sense. All that stuff about us being drawn to each other... But maybe it's like when you read a horoscope and you're _looking_ for ways that it can apply to you. I get that the, uh, 'Sad Option' is less interesting, but at least it sounds rational. Except for the volcano thing... There's coincidence and then there's _that_. I knew about it before, but I'd already heard _so many_ amazing adventures about my mom and dad that I just didn't think about it too much." The boy fell silent, staring at the volcano in the distance and trying to imagine it spewing fire as his parents and Eduardo scrambled for cover. With a sigh, Helga moved to join him, the two of them looking out over all of nature together.

"Arnold, there isn't some easy solution to this. We already got told the story by the shaman of a hidden, ancient civilisation – I'm pretty sure that's as close as anyone's gonna come to giving us the answers on this one. It just comes down to what you choose to believe." Arnold only gave an absent nod at her words, but he was listening. It wasn't the first time Helga had come through as an unexpected source of sage advice. "Look at it this way; if the Sad Option is real, you gain nothing, but lose nothing. Life goes on, plus you have your folks back now. But if the _Exciting_ Option is real, you get all that _plus_ the perks of being destined for greatness! It's a win-win! You know, so long as you don't mind maybe being... stuck with me..." Arnold turned his head to see Helga nervously tapping her fingers together, determinedly avoiding looking is his direction. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and his heart jolted with guilt. Before Tiukwí had told them his story, everything had finally seemed to be clicking into place. He knew how he felt. And now everything was being turned on its head because the old man's words had left him scared. But that wasn't Helga's fault.

"Helga, it's not the idea of being 'stuck' with you. It's the idea of being 'stuck' with anybody! I don't like this feeling of having no control, even if the situation isn't really... bad." Helga finally turned to meet his eye, looking hopeful once again, before he continued. "I just don't feel equipped to deal with something this _big_ yet." To his relief, she simply nodded. If there was _one_ thing Helga could give legitimately useful advice on, it was hiding from things you weren't ready to handle.

"Then... _don't_ deal with it. Don't think about it. Take all of tonight's Tiukwí drama, put it in a box, and lock it up somewhere until you're ready to handle it. I mean, it's not like the Exciting Option is a limited time offer - if it's true, then it's just who you are. Until then, just do what feels right for you." She watched Arnold smile a little at that; it felt good to offer comforting advice for a change, especially to him. Some of the tension had left him, she could tell, though he still seemed nervous, and the two of them fell into a thoughtful silence. But after a short while, Helga felt that increasingly-familiar warmth at her hand, and she looked down to find Arnold's fingers gently resting on her own.

"What... feels right for me." He muttered, mostly to himself. It sounded like he had reached some kind of conclusion. "Ok. Then putting all the Tiukwí stuff to one side," Helga's heart began to flutter at the contact, until Arnold turned to her with a regretful look, "I think... I owe you an apology. For before." Her heart went from fluttering to plummeting in one swift beat. An apology for _what_? For when he kissed her? Did he regret it? Arnold saw the panic spreading across her face like a wildfire, and he facepalmed in embarrassment. "Not for the kiss! Not for either of them! Those were... They were..." She could relate as he trailed away, her anxiety somewhat following suit on hearing him rush to clarify. She wasn't sure _she_ could put those kisses into words either. "I mean for _before_ that. For back on the boat, the crow's nest." Helga's body gave an unpleasant shudder at the memory. It had taken her so much bravery, the culmination of an agonising year of uncertainty and the pulling off of her greatest 'win over Arnold' scheme to date. What a resounding Strike Two it had been to see the terror on his face... It had actually made her finally give up in a fit of blind grief. For a few hours. But now, he wanted to apologise? She suspected she'd be more comfortable talking about magical destinies...

"When you came to me back then, everything was already _so_ messed up!" The boy continued, his face pained with earnest regret. "Lasombra was tricking me, and all I could think about was my parents. But I knew that if I actually went looking for them, I'd be abandoning all of you. It meant I'd be breaking my promise to my grandparents! It was the most horrible decision I've ever had to make, but everything till that point had been so amazing, like it was fate!" Helga found it hard to be mad, when she heard it like that. Sure she had been furious, like the rest of the class, when Lasombra had revealed himself, but Arnold would never have agreed to anything the disguised villain had offered if he'd even considered there was the slightest chance thathis friends would be hurt. As easy as it was to blame him, what kid would turn down an opportunity like that when it was thrown in his lap?

"I was up in that crow's nest alone because I felt lousy... I had talked to Gerald just before, and I'd had to lie to his face! I hate lying to anybody..." His eyes, which had been looking away in sad recollection, suddenly turned up to meet hers. "And then, suddenly, you were there, asking me how I was doing. You know, I think you might have been the _only_ person on this trip who could've gotten a real answer from me? It's like that Thanksgiving we spent together, not to mention all this weirdness right now; I can just _talk_ to you somehow, when you act like you want to listen. It's just... easy. I could feel all of that pressure just starting to slip out, like I was ready to explode! But then instead, you brought up... us. It was too much at once, and I panicked, and I'm really sorry." Helga's face flushed. Had her timing really been that bad? Doi, of _course_ it had! The whole reason she made the trip happen was to _help_ Arnold find his parents, and she went and dropped one of her 'passionate-confession' bombs on him before he even found out if they were alive! But it had been building up for so long, and being on that boat in the moonlight had seemed so romantic... It was done, and it was in the past. What mattered now was to move on, and focus all her attention on the fact that Arnold just referred to them as 'us'. As in _us_ , us? Her breath hitched slightly. Again, Arnold seemed to read her, like an open book. She wondered when she would actually need to _talk_ to move this along, not that she was complaining. Words seemed difficult all of a sudden. Worryingly, she could read him too, and he seemed to be bracing himself.

"I wanted to say this back at the altar but, well, that didn't happen. I know you've tried to tell me how you feel before, and I don't just mean on the boat. I know that you weren't just making stuff up on that rooftop last year." _That_ she hadn't been prepared for, and Helga's blood ran cold. Another squeak escaped her throat; it was the only sound she could make for the first few moments.

"You... knew? This whole time?" When she _did_ speak, her voice sounded almost alien to her, small and weak as it was. She only realised too late that, in her shock, she hadn't even considered the option of denying it. But maybe they really were past that point now. Even Helga G. Pataki could only cover up so many tracks. The lie that she hated him had probably flow out of the window with that first, wonderful kiss, never mind the second. Arnold nodded with a soft half-smile. His cheeks were pink again.

"I knew. I figured you didn't mean for things to get as... intense as they did," boy was he right there, she still cringed at the thought of the way she attacked him, "but while it was happening, everything you were saying was too _specific_ to be made up. Poems, and s-shrines..." Helga's hand shot to her mouth; he _remembered_ all that? She had hoped the smaller details of her outburst would have been lost in the haze of that day. "But when it was all over, and we finally had a moment to breathe, you just look so _scared_. Like you were nowhere near ready for me to hear what I'd heard. _I_ was scared too, and really confused. So when you started to backtrack, I guess I just saw an opportunity to buy both of us a little time with the whole 'heat of the moment' thing. I'll... I'll apologise for that too, if you want me to, but I think it was the right thing to do. I meant what I said back at the altar; I just... wasn't ready to hear it."

"You weren't ready for what?" Helga finally had her voice back, and it sadly came with a hurt scowl. Somehow his words had reopened wounds that had been left from that day. She had been delighted when the 'heat of the moment' excuse was laid on the table; she had danced away feeling scot-free. But as the year wore on, she had dwelt on it so intensely, the nagging worry that Arnold wasn't _really_ that dense and just didn't feel the same way gnawing at the back of her mind. His words had confirmed her worst suspicions, and even after everything they had just shared her old defences were quick to lash out. "You weren't ready to believe that I might actually have _feelings_? You weren't ready to _settle_ for liking me? Or did I just need to pull more rabbits out of my hat to _impress_ you enough to notice me?! You know, like making _this_ whole nutso escapade happen?!" She waved her arms wildly at their unbelievable surroundings, her voice rapidly growing louder and more frantic. The old, downward spiral. Once again, Arnold made the descent stop, this time by gripping both of her flailing hands, stunning her out of her rant. They were suddenly very close, face-to-face.

" _Liking_ you wasn't the issue, Helga. And _please_ don't put yourself down like that!" Arnold's tone was agitated but soft, and pleading. He needed her to understand. "Do you really think that if you'd just come out and asked me on a date, I would have turned you down flat?"

"Well, _doi_ -" Helga felt the answer was obvious.

"No!" Arnold was quick to cut her off. "You've spent every day of our lives driving me _nuts_ , but I'd never be that cruel! I _know_ how hard it is to approach someone you 'like' like! I know how much it hurts to get turned down..." Mild pain flashed across his face. Lila had been quite the learning experience. "And I've always known you had feelings, that you weren't just a bully, even if you tried to hide it."

"You... would've said _yes_?"

"I'm not saying I wouldn't have been really shocked. I would've been ninety percent sure you were pranking me, or setting me up in some way, and I'm sure Gerald would have tried to talk me out of it. I'm not even saying I would have looked _forward_ to it. But yes, I would have said yes. But that was before FTi."

"What changed after FTi? Surely if you _knew_ I liked you-" Helga was confused, but part of her mind was starting to get the picture. She wasn't too surprised when Arnold cut her off again.

"I knew you _didn't_ like me – that's the point! You told me that you were in _love_ with me!" Arnold was starting to seem a little frantic himself. Saying the words out loud had suddenly made everything extremely real. This had been building up for a long time too, and unlike Helga, Arnold wasn't suited for keeping things contained. "You told me you loved me, and even with _everything_ you'd said and done to me over the years, I could tell you meant it. When you kissed me back then, I was surprised, and freaked out, but even without kissing you back I could feel how much it meant to you. How would you have felt if after all that courage, I'd told you I didn't know how I felt?"

The very idea sent a cold lurch through Helga's stomach. Granted, it was a step above the nightmarish 'total rejection' scenario, but it would have been hard to take. No, it would have darn near crushed her, and probably made her push him away all the harder out of sheer embarrassment. Arnold saw her visibly pale, and knew he had made his point.

"You'd done so much for me that day. And before then. I wanted to give you a _real_ answer, one that I could be sure was true, one way or the other. I just never thought it would be so difficult." Helga was about to take offence again at that, but he suddenly gave her a look of sincere admiration that made her breath catch. "Like I said, _liking_ you wasn't the issue. You can be mean, and a lot of the time that really bugs me, but you're also amazing when you want to be. You're smart, funny and talented. You're strong and you're creative. I'm pretty sure the poetry Mr Simmons always reads out by 'Anonymous' is actually yours, and that pink book I found too?" He studied her face for a moment, taking her immediate blush as confirmation of what he already knew. It seemed to strengthen his resolve. "So I realised pretty quickly that, if you _did_ mean what you said, I would be lucky to have someone like you be interested in me." Those last words made his blush intensify, and stole Helga's breath away. Usually she only heard so many compliments from the Arnold she met in her dreams night after night; to hear them from the genuine article was an unreal fantasy. She almost wished he would stop there, she'd already gotten more than she had ever thought possible from him, but his face quickly became pained once again.

"But every time I thought about liking you, I'd remember the way you were on that rooftop. I don't think I've ever been that... _passionate_... about _anything_ before." It was true; he still remembered all too well the desperate, yearning face Helga had worn before their first 'non-scripted' kiss, and the strange spaced-out look she had worn after it. The energy from her in that moment had been overwhelming to the point of making his legs feel unsteady. Helga's ' _wonderful – I'll go with you_ ' comment had been of absolutely _no_ help. "And it scared me. I was only _nine_. I'm a year older now, and I feel like I'm _still_ learning what 'love' is. I didn't know how to approach you about any of this without feeling like I was setting myself up for more than I was ready to handle, and I was afraid that I'd just wind up hurting you. I was going round in circles. Then, just when it was all getting too much, I found my dad's journal a few months ago. It was something else to focus on, so I did. I didn't stop thinking about what happened with us, but I sort of pushed it back in my brain a little bit. Maybe that wasn't fair to you, but I had been dreaming of finding my parents my whole life! _Literally_ , I'd have so many nights where I'd dream that I'd jumped in a plane and come to find them. When I found the map, it just... took everything over. I spent all my free time since then learning everything I could about San Lorenzo and the Green Eyes. I swear I never meant to make you wait this long... But since all of _this_ happened, even before tonight, it's all just seemed so _obvious_."

To say that Helga was stunned was an understatement. She had truly believed that Arnold had bought the 'heat of the moment' line. Or had she just wanted so badly to believe that? But it had _never_ occurred to her that Arnold had been giving 'them' so much thought since that day. She thought that, at the very least, he had put it out of his mind. Tucked it away where it couldn't bother him. That had been stupid, she realised – when could that boy ever just let something go? In fact, she had been so determined to disregard the whole thing that she never considered, in retrospect, that he _hadn't_ rejected her. He'd just put a pin in the idea. What he was saying was true; he had never been supposed to learn her secret that day. Deep Voice was meant to remain a mysterious enigma to never be solved, but her discovery had left the girl scrambling. The confession had tumbled out like an avalanche, unplanned and out of control. Maybe he had been right... But what interested her more was the last part of Arnold's own confession; he hadn't meant to make her wait this long, it was 'obvious'. Did this entire conversation mean that, after all this time, he finally _did_ know how he felt? This had all been too much, and she couldn't wait any longer. He knew she didn't hate him, and she couldn't pretend otherwise any more; that ship had sailed, hit a football-shaped iceberg and sunk like a stone. It was time to lay her cards on the table.

"Arnold, I understand." Arnold blinked in surprise as Helga spoke; he wasn't quite as used to a monologue as her, and was worried that he'd got carried away or started babbling. Plus, she used his real name, and she sounded so calm. It reminded him of her voice when she had demanded clarity from Tiukwí; the need for a straight answer pushing aside all panic and fear. In reality, he could never have imagined the restraint the girl was exercising at that moment; she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, and shake the boy by his shoulders until he gave her the answers she wanted. "I know that I'm not... normal. But you're not normal either. That's why I lo-, _like_ you so much. And everything you've just said is so completely _you_. Doi, of _course_ you wanted to give me an honest, thought-out answer, and of _course_ you wanted to focus on your parents. You're the only kid in the _universe_ who'd feel the need to apologise for that last one by the way." She gave him a small smirk, the first since this dreaded talk began, and saw his tension drop slightly in response. But then her face became determined, her eyes slightly sad. "But, well, I've been waiting a _long_ time. A-a lot longer than you might realise. And after everything that's happened tonight, if we end this conversation without me knowing how you feel, then I... I think 'head exploding' might be an understatement. So just tell me how you feel about me, just based on the stuff you know about me now. Forget about all the mystic mumbo-jumbo we've heard tonight. If you only 'like me' like me, I can work with that. Gladly. Heck, even if you _don't_ like me, spit it out. But crimeny, just put me out of my misery, Football Head!" Her eyes were prickling, much as she tried to be stoic, and she pressed them shut. It was make or break time. After the most bizarre, convoluted series of events that she could ever have imagined, after dreading the answer for most of her young life, she had _finally_ outright asked Arnold how he felt about her. No distractions, no escape routes for either of them. No approaching vessels or imminent demolitions. Her mind was rattling off everything Arnold had done that night alone to let her believe she might really get the response she dreamed of hearing. Every compliment and kind word, every touch of their hands, every bit of mystical weirdness that he had heard from Tiukwí without running away screaming. The kisses... She wasn't sure how many seconds she waited for an answer, but it felt like hours. His grip on her hands tightened.

"I love you, Helga."

She could only gasp. Four simple words, but each of them hit her like a firework. Well, the second was more like a low-yield missile. She could scarcely allow herself to believe her ears hadn't been playing tricks. Helga could have happily died then and there with those four words alone, but Arnold wasn't done.

"Going through all of this with you has been so incredible, and none of it would have happened _without_ you. I don't know whether Tiukwí is right about us or not, but I feel like you _do_ balance me out in this really awesome way. You always have. The thought of _losing_ you today was the worst feeling ever. There's more, but... I can't even describe it. I just _know_. I'm still scared, but I don't want to waste time or hurt you by pretending it's not there any more. I love you."

He loved her. He _loved_ her. He. Loved. _Her_. _Helga G. Pataki_! She could say the words in her head over and over, and she still wasn't sure she'd ever believe it. She could dance all the way through the jungle, onto the plane and right back to Hillwood, only she couldn't feel her legs. A thousand tiny Helgas were scrambling around in her head screaming 'Victory!'. All she could do was keep her eyes shut tightly and take deep, cleansing breaths, otherwise she would a) collapse into a weeping puddle of elation, b) start laughing so insanely that Arnold immediately retracted his decision and tried to set her up with Curly, or c) tackle him at a bad angle, sending them plummeting to their deaths on the cobbles below. Admittedly, Option C seemed the most romantic, in a very 'Romeo and Juliet' sort of way. This was all she had ever wanted, all she had asked for. Well, also an unconditional surrender from the United Nations, but mostly this!

"Helga? Can you... can you say something please?" Her eyes shot open to see Arnold still inches away from her. His hands still hadn't left hers, and his face was painted with shy, sheepish worry; the look of someone who had just laid their heart on the line. His eyes widened as she tore her hands free, and he released a small, surprised wheeze as the girl threw herself at him with all her might. Option C, minus the fatalities since Arnold managed to stay upright. It was a few moments before Arnold overcame his shock enough to place his arms around her, as she had done to him, and only then did he register that she was trembling. His brow furrowed in concern, he rested his head on her shoulder.

"I love you too, Arnold. Crimeny, I love you too. Oh _man_ , does it feel good to finally say that!" She mumbled into his own shoulder, her voice breathless and disbelieving. Immediately afterwards she lapsed into tearful giggles. Apparently Options A and B would also be making minor appearances. Arnold suddenly found himself hugging the girl that he had seen hints and whispers of day after day since he was three-years-old, and he could do nothing but hold her tighter and let his own smile spread across his face. Helga, on the other hand, began to suspect that Arnold's parents would need to pry her off with a crowbar if and when they wanted a turn. She wanted _so_ badly to kiss him again, but she had taken his words to heart; she was afraid of being too intense and scaring him away. It took willpower, but if he was willing to give her this chance, then she was at least willing to let him set the pace.

"Helga, I- mmf!"

Ok, scratch that. As Arnold pulled back to say whatever he had to say, her lips had shot to his on pure instinct. Her arms quickly went around his neck, her hands moving to his hair, a quiet, humming moan escaping her throat. This was nowhere near the outrageous intensity of the FTi rooftop, but was decidedly more 'Helga' than their previous kisses that night. And it was wetter, her face having been streaked with happy tears. What little part of her brain was still functioning could do nothing but vaguely hope that Arnold could forgive this one moment of weakness. She felt a dull panic as his hands went to her shoulders, fully expecting to be pushed away to face whatever admonishment may come, but instead they simply rested there lightly. The contact at least brought Helga back to her senses enough to bring the kiss to an end, their lips finally parting. Her face was blushing maroon, and getting worse with each passing instant of realisation that her 'don't scare him away' rule had lasted all of five seconds. She opened her mouth to begin a stuttering apology, when she finally took in the sight of Arnold's face. His own cheeks were rosy and his lips were still slightly puckered, but the most amusing feature was his eyes. They looked completely glazed; the boy was on another planet. At least his hat stayed on his head this time... After a second, he joined her back on Earth with a decidedly Helga-ish shake of his head, and the girl finally thought he might _hear_ her apology instead of it travelling in one ear and out the other. She cleared her throat, her own sheepish, toothy grin quickly in place.

"Ok, heheh. So that one was my bad, a little moment of weakness. I am otherwise _completely_ respectful of your football-headed wishes to not get carried away." Arnold simply folded his arms and regarded her with a cocked eyebrow; he seemed to be taking the whole thing reasonably well, but Helga felt the need to press on, nervously rubbing her arm. "A-and in my defence, Arnoldo, you should know to expect this kind of thing when you tell a girl you love them. Um, i-if they love you back, that is..." She was quietly making a solemn vow that, so help her, he would _never_ need to say those words to another girl again; she would make sure of it. To her immense relief, Arnold finally broke down with a chuckle, his hand making its usual route to the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I guess I knew what I was getting into. And it wasn't exactly bad..." He flushed a little brighter before his face became serious once more. "I meant what I said. I do love you, and I'm really happy that you, um, l-love _me_ , but I hope you can understand that this whole thing still seems kind of a lot to take. I know your spirit has – how did Tiukwí put it – 'intense passion'," he shot her a teasing look at this, making her roll her eyes, "but... it's going to take time for me to get used to all this. I just got my parents back, and... I don't think I'm ready to stop being a kid just yet. So maybe nothing too intense, ok?" Helga nodded rapidly; she was hardly surprised. Arnold was mature, mature enough to handle this whole situation to begin with, but she didn't want him to be overwhelmed. She would let him set the pace – for real this time.

"W-works for me. I can't guarantee that the odd, er, 'outburst' won't happen, but I'll do my best, ok?" Arnold nodded, his own eyes rolling. He meant what he said – he'd had a fair idea of what he was getting into. "So... what happens now?"

"I don't know..." Arnold sat on the wall, boldly swinging his legs over to dangle over the edge. He suddenly found himself in deep, uncharted waters, loving a girl who loved him back. Helga quickly came to join him, the two side-by-side, legs swinging over the ancient city spread out beneath them. Their hands joined again in what was quickly becoming an automatic response. "I guess we go home. Work out the kinks as we go. I'd like to get to know you better, hang out as friends. Maybe go on dates and stuff when we're ready. I-if you would like that, that is." He hastily added the last part, causing Helga to let out a soft breath of laughter through her nose. As if she would let dating Arnold slip through her fingers.

"Meh, we'll work something out." An uncomfortable thought suddenly nudged its way into her head. The real world, and many of the annoying people that occupied it, were only a boat ride away. Her face grew concerned. "I... can't promise I can just flip a switch and be all 'sweet and caring' once this is over. Not with other people and _especially_ not with those yahoos from school. I'm still bad to the bone, y'know!"

Arnold chuckled again. "I understand. I'd probably feel worried if I _didn't_ get plastered with spitballs every day!" It was true - the last time it happened he had been strangely concerned for his bully. "Going slow goes both ways, I guess."

"Good." Helga let out a sigh of relief; he didn't expect the world from her, just an honest effort. Still, she didn't want to dwell on the subject – she guessed she'd have plenty of time for doubts and worries once the euphoria had worn off. "So tell me more about these 'dates', Football Head? I'm tough to impress, ya know – nothing on the cheap!"

"Well I always figured we'd have this conversation at Slausen's. Or maybe after a walk through the park." His response sent Helga's imagination on a journey, image after image of idyllic moments with her beloved dancing through her mind's eye. "Maybe we could go to the next Cheese Festival. Wait, no!" Arnold's suddenly sat up a little straighter, his face cringing. " _Bad_ things happen to me when I try to impress girls at that festival! I swear, you wouldn't believe-"

Helga sat in careful, mortified silence as the long-suffering boy regaled her with two festivals' worth of tragic, humiliating mishaps. There would probably be a time to start revealing the 'guiding hand' she'd had in his dating life so far. That time was much, much later. Like after their wedding. As his rant died away, Helga's own train of thought had left her troubled again, much as she tried to resist. There was a new elephant in the room.

"Sooo, I hate to bring it up since this has been pretty darn amazing, and all," she hesitantly began, "but how much are you gonna tell your parents about the Tiukwí stuff? Plus, Geraldo knows at least _some_ of the details. I just figure we might need to come up with a 'party line' on this one." Her point made Arnold's eye widen again, and he gave a small gulp. His parents seemed to know most (he hoped not all) of the details already, but he had _no_ desire to let them know that the old guide they liked so much considered their ten-year-old son married... And then there was Gerald. Arnold really didn't want to lie to his best friend again, but maybe omitting a few particular details wouldn't hurt.

"I'm still not completely sure how much Tiukwí told my parents, but I guess we'll find out soon enough. As for Gerald, I think we should tell him the truth, minus the whole 'bonded' thing." He saw Helga give him a severely sceptical look, and felt the need to justify. "After everything the three of us have been through today, I just feel like he deserves not to be left out. Besides, Gerald knows how to keep a secret."

Helga let out a small groan; she hated it when he was right. "Fine, fair's fair. I guess Tall Hair Boy _did_ save my life on that stupid bridge today. Man, I hope he never clocks on to that one – I'd never live it down. But if he makes _one_ crack about any of this, I'll make sure he meets a few 'spirits' in person." Arnold smirked again, his eyes half-lidded.

"Whatever you say, Helga."

And with that, both began to realise, it was done. They'd had 'the talk', passed through the ring of fire (relatively) unscathed, and now there was no going back. They returned to their peaceful silence for a while, each wondering what the next days and weeks would hold, each relishing the small comfort of the warmth of the other's hand. Arnold knew that the times to come would be a difficult balancing act; he and his parents had a _lot_ of catching up to do, and he hoped that Helga would understand. Maybe they'd want to get to know _her_ too, depending on just how much Tiukwí had revealed. In any case, it was a challenge he was more than happy to face. Helga, on the other hand, had quietly begun pinching her leg, each small sting of pain _almost_ convincing her that this was real. She would have plenty to tell her own best friend when they were reunited, though she had an inkling that Phoebe would be every bit as occupied in the near future as her, given what she witnessed between the girl and Gerald in Lasombra's prison. And she _dreaded_ to think about the bundle of crazy she would be unloading on Dr Bliss; they might need to make it a double session. Until then though, Helga could allow herself to enjoy this moment of blissful peace. Taking a chance, and a deep breath, she boldly rested her head on Arnold's shoulder. Even that mild contact sent a electric tingle through her body.

"So, Football Head," she grinned as her beloved turned to smile at her, "tell me _more_ about my eyes."


	6. Chapter 6 - Face the Day

**A/N So I've started every chapter of this story since the second with thanks to those who've reviewed, but the feedback for the last chapter REALLY blew me away. What can I say, except another HUGE thank you! I can't promise every chapter will be quite as dramatic as the last (I'm coming up with this as I go) but I hope you continue to enjoy all the same. You are all awesome!**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 6 - Face the Day**

There's a reason it's called a 'rainforest'.

When Arnold and Helga finally, reluctantly, parted for the night and headed to their respective huts, it had been extremely late. Or extremely early, depending on your point of view. Helga had practically floated her way to bed, joyfully cocooning herself in the Green-Eyes' vibrant sheets. The stone slab might as well have been a cloud. It was lucky for her that Gerald and Eduardo slept so deeply that night, or they might have asked why the girl had spent the following hours sighing and giggling blissfully while she dreamed. Arnold, on the other hand, faced the awkward task of gently manoeuvring his way back into his original position, tightly squeezed between his parents. The action left him feeling like an infant who had woken from a terrible (or in this case wonderful) dream and needed to feel his parents' presence, much to his embarrassment. But their warmth and closeness was a far more appealing prospect than the other cold, vacant slabs that occupied the room. Besides, he hated the idea of the two of them waking up to find him missing, even if he was only a few feet away. He hated the idea that they might think he didn't need them. In any case, his sleep came quickly, his dreams deep and peaceful. But while the children slept, the clouds that had lurked behind the mountains chose their moment to break cover, drifting and spreading across the sky until the entire jungle was covered in a bleak, grey ceiling. And then the rain began to fall.

It rained in Hillwood, quite often in fact. Sometimes it even rained so hard that the drains overflowed and the streets flooded. But the rain that falls in a jungle is different. Every single drop is fat and bloated, each making its own heavy, splashing impact as it hits its target, and the drops are never-ending. The torrent makes you feel as though you could swim through the air, or be swept away by it, every breath a fresh mouthful of water. In Hillwood, one might dash from doorway to doorway, hiding under awnings and becoming only slightly wet during those brief moments of exposure. _This_ rain would soak you to the bone in those short seconds. But it's not all bad; the air can become so thick and muggy during such storms that the drenching comes as sweet relief, making the air more breathable as it breaks the humidity. That was the kind of morning that greeted the children when they finally woke. As Helga's eyes slowly drifted open, blinking blearily in the light, she was immediately struck by the sounds that surrounded her. Water, beating the roof of the hut and flowing from the nearby falls with fresh intensity. This explained why she and Arnold's delightful cruise down the French Riviera had suddenly become a white-water rafting trip before the dream ended.

Arnold.

' _HE LOVES ME!_ '

It wasn't new for the football-headed boy to be her first coherent thought of her morning; generally it was a toss-up between thinking of him with adoration, or thinking of her parents with unadulterated spite. It depended on whether she was allowed to finish her dreams in peace, or had them shattered by Bob or Miriam shouting her awake. But today, for once, she was able to wake up, think of him, and grin almost insanely without a hint of wistfulness or regret. Actually, she very nearly squealed aloud. For once in her life, Helga was happier to be awake than dreaming. He loved her! He'd taken her hands, soothed her fears and told her, with his own, completely real, not-a-dream lips, that he loved her. Actually, he had said it three times! After she and Arnold had parted the night before, Helga had replayed their talk over and over, making certain that every word, detail and sensation was cemented in her brain as deeply and securely as possible (oh, of all the times _not_ to have that stupid camcorder), and her reward was that the memories were ready at the forefront of her mind on waking. Or at least, she was 90% certain they were memories, and not wonderful dreams themselves. Maybe 85%. It wouldn't be the mind of Helga G. Pataki if it didn't tinge every happy event with a shade of doubt that it could ever _possibly_ have been real, multiple pinches aside. Good things didn't happen to her. Arnold kissing her and confessing his love for her in the moonlight _certainly_ didn't happen to her. Maybe 75%... She needed to check, _now_. Eagerness and growing fear spurred her in equal measure to greet the day – not that the hard stone particularly screamed 'comfy lie-in' – and she quickly rose and began to stretch.

"Oh man. Uh, what do the Green Eyes have in the way of restrooms?" The words had come from Gerald, her movement leading him to stir. Like Helga, he had woken to the sound of pouring rain, and was now apparently facing a predictable issue. Sitting up, his face was slightly pained, and his feet twitched impatiently. His eyes were darting back and forth, as if hoping to spot a previously unnoticed en suite adjoined to their small hut. Helga quickly donned her first scowl of the day; if anything was going to pull her from her thoughts, she would rather it _wasn't_ that.

"Oh _real_ nice Geraldo. What's your problem? You're a guy – just go outside and pick a wall." Helga hoped he would do just that; it really wasn't a subject she wanted to dwell on. Or think about. _Ever_. Unfortunately, her comment just seemed to exasperate Gerald further.

"I don't know what's sacred in this crazy place! And half the walls have my best friend's _face_ painted on them! I do _not_ need Arnold staring at me while I'm-"

To Helga's immense relief, Gerald was interrupted by the curtain door being opened, an extremely wet Eduardo entering the hut. Water flowed from the brim of his hat and dripped from his saturated clothing, a puddle quickly forming at his feet. He quietly regarded the children for a moment, taking in Gerald's desperate expression (apparently the new source of dripping was only making things worse). Finally, he jerked his head towards the doorway.

"The baño is three huts to the left. Well... it is just a hole in the floor but you get the idea." Gerald's eyes lit up as the man spoke, and he released a sigh of relief and gratitude. Dashing to the door, he paused to hastily bundle his precious hair into his hood, muttering his annoyance at the downpour, before darting in the instructed direction. With a small chuckle, Eduardo returned to sit on his own 'bed', painstakingly wringing the water from sleeves. It was an uncomfortable silence, at least for Helga, as the two sat alone. Only the sounds of flowing, trickling rain filled the hut. He was a complete stranger to her, albeit a stranger to whom she owed her life. The idea of owing ANYBODY her life was jarring for an eleven-year-old; this trip really got out of hand...

"You are a very brave girl. You fought well yesterday." He suddenly spoke, a kind smile on his face. All the same, Helga wasn't much for small talk.

"Huh? Oh, thanks, I guess. It was no big deal; I probably could've taken that bozo down myself if those other two knuckleheads hadn't got in my way." She paused, before an uncomfortable memory suddenly came back to her. "My bad about the whole 'fake moustache' thing."

Eduardo chuckled again, gently stroking the facial hair that Helga had nearly ripped from his face. "It is no problem. Stella used to do the same thing when I made her angry; it was still preferable to her punches! I was starting to think I would never see her or Miles again. I am very grateful for what the three of you did." He had removed his sodden hat, his dark eyes filled with gratitude. Once again, Helga felt uncomfortable; everyone in this city seemed to feel obligated to shower her with thanks, and the attention was, frankly, creeping her out. She felt she did her best work in the shadows. Plus, Eduardo had just compared her to Arnold's mom, and she really didn't feel like analysing that one just then.

"Yeah, well, we got you your friends back, you saved us from plummeting to our doom at the bottom of a ravine. Let's just call it even, ok?" She hoped that would make him drop the topic. Heck, by this point she even hoped _Gerald_ would come back from his short trip. Anything to avoid more 'touchy-feely' conversation. Between Tiukwí and Arnold the night before, her limited tolerance for emotional talks had been burned out.

"You looked at El Corazón, didn't you?" Helga's brow shot up. Her arms, which had been defensively crossed, fell limply to her sides. She certainly hadn't been expecting _that_ question. She hadn't even _thought_ much about the Corazón, apart from the fact that they had lost it. "While I was speaking to Arnold, before Lasombra attacked again. You saw it?"

"Y-yeah. So?" As her shock passed, Helga was able to re-establish her defiant pout. But her mind was filled with the memory of the strange, golden heart. It had seemed so alive.

"Dios mio... What did it look like?" To her surprise, Eduardo's usual look of calm detachment was gone. He was leaning forward, his voice hushed with an awe that showed in the eager tension of his body. His hat was practically being wrung in his hands. At least, unlike Lasombra's avaricious, hungry expression, Eduardo's eyes were filled with earnest reverence. Regardless, Helga was taken aback by the sudden enthusiasm, and she fought to maintain her composure.

"It was a _heart_ , doi. Like a heart shape, but with actual veins and stuff. Kind of like someone tried to make a Valentine's card halfway accurate." She paused, remembering the object's beautiful aura. "And it was gold – like _pure_ gold – and it was glowing." Her voice had become soft as the memory of gazing at the Corazón filled her. The shine had seemed to flow into her, like it was always meant to be there. It had felt as though the heart was actually beating, but somehow in her own chest, just below her locket. The locket she had carried for years, it's dimensions virtually identical to the Corazón's own, apparently every bit as pure as the ancient heart where it counted. Yet another weird coincidence... In that moment, the Corazón may as well have been her very own heart; she hadn't known where one ended and the other began.

"I see." Eduardo's eyes had gently closed as he tried to picture the relic from Helga's crude description. She couldn't do it justice, they both knew, and his tone was tinged with quiet regret. Suddenly, though, he shrugged and sighed, his expression becoming resigned. "Even if we had recovered it, I could not have looked upon it. Neither could Miles and Stella when they first took it back from that villain. El Corazón is too sacred." This caused Helga more than a little concern.

"Whoa, no-one told _me_! Did I break some kind of 'jungle law' or something?" Her mind was suddenly amok with images of Tiukwí and other enraged Green-Eyed People demanding her eyes as payment for daring to gaze upon their sacred treasure. This would have been a downright unsettling thought on any day, but as of her talk with Arnold, Helga had designated her eyes as her most valuable feature. Fortunately, Eduardo shook his head, his eyes opening once more. Oddly, he seemed to be studying her, his gaze piercing.

"No. From what Tiukwí told us, you and Arnold are the _only_ ones who could ever have looked directly upon the heart. Superstition perhaps, but Lasombra _did_ die for his attempt." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully; if he was joking, it was misplaced. Helga had already been grimacing at the reminder that Eduardo and Arnold's parents knew at least some of what Tiukwí had told them. Now she was also faced with the mental image of a raving, green, red-eyed river pirate, murderous and filled with poison. Another topic for Dr Bliss; Helga would need to make a list beforehand.

"Heh, yeah, that Tiukwí sure comes up with some funny stories." She nervously decided to broach the subject, increasingly desperate to find out just how much the adults knew. She figured things might go smoother with her future in-laws if they didn't think they were _already_ her in-laws. The way Eduardo's eyes observed her, like he was waiting for her to sprout wings and start glowing, had her fearing the worst. "So, just out of curiosity, how much _did_ the old guy happen to tell you?" She braced herself, ready do some serious dodging, denying, or both. Eduardo opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by a commotion from the doorway, and the scrambling of feet. Gerald suddenly came bursting back into the room, fighting his way past the entangling curtain and looking soaked to the skin. His hoody was utterly sodden, clinging tightly to his body, and he tore the thick, uncomfortable fabric off before shaking himself like a dog. When he finally finished, his hair now frizzy and drooping forward with the weight of the water, he turned to Helga and Eduardo with wild eyes.

"I'm calling it – I _hate_ the jungle. _Hate_ it." He began to wring out his clothing, much as Eduardo had done. The boy was seething. "I could deal with the heat, the dirt, the booby-traps and even the pirates, but this tears it. I feel like my hair soaked up the entire community pool!"

Eduardo simply laughed gamely at the boy's fury. "Don't worry mi amigo, it's not so bad when you're under the canopy. And my boat is not too far away. Speaking of which, we should get moving; rain like this can make journeys tricky." Unable to argue, Gerald was left to dejectedly pull the wet hoody on once again, grimacing at the damp, chilly feeling and muttering his displeasure. Helga, meanwhile, poked her head out the door, the fine curtain acting as a feeble umbrella against the rain while she peered over to the hut Arnold had shared with his parents. Were they awake? She hoped they were awake. The need to _see_ Arnold wasn't new to her mornings either, or to her afternoons and evenings, but the night's events had magnified that feeling more than she thought possible. She needed to banish the lingering worries that their whole exchange had been a cruel (albeit spectacular) trick of her overactive imagination. And she knew that, when she did see him, it would take all her energy not to repeat her most recent 'outburst'. If last night wasn't real, that would create an _extremely_ awkward situation, and if it _had_ been real (oh, she prayed that it had been real), she had a promise to keep. It didn't help that the last night's reruns had come back in full force, every second of them leaving her giddy. Of the thousand tiny, mental Helga's from last night, several hundred were _still_ dancing, weeping and formally congratulating each other on a job well done. Ironically, she found herself trying to distract her thoughts from Arnold by thinking about Arnold. Or more specifically, what her beloved was going through that morning. Waking up next to his parents for the first time in nearly a decade. Waking up for the first time knowing they were even _alive_. Helga had parent issues, and boy did she know it, but Arnold must surely being going through a whole different level of weird at that moment. Good weird, probably. As Eduardo and Gerald readied themselves behind her, she quickly reapplied her trademark scowl, the heavy rain a justifiable excuse. She straightened her bow; it was time to face the day.

"Ya know Ed," she spoke to Eduardo, folding her arms while nudging her head towards the grey, pouring sky, "if you were REALLY grateful, you'd let me borrow that hat."

As it happened, the occupants of the neighbouring hut _were_ awake. Arnold had been sleeping deeply, his dream a familiar one as he wheeled and looped through the sky in a small, red aeroplane, a white pilot's scarf whipping in the wind behind him. His parents were there too, their own plane soaring alongside his, the family bound for their next great adventure. Had he been awake, Arnold's prediction of what would come next would have lacked his usual optimism. His parents would vanish, sometimes disappearing into a black, ominous cloud, sometimes speeding off into the horizon as his own plane sputtered and failed, leaving him behind. Always he would call out after them, to no avail. Sometimes he crashed. But this time, for once, their journey continued unhindered, the two planes dancing around each other with choreographed expertise around thick, white clouds. Arnold could practically feel his stomach jolt as he entered into one particularly deep nosedive.

And then he hit the floor.

With a muffled cry, Arnold had jolted awake. He found himself in a tangle of fabric and limbs, half his body lying against the hard floor, and the other half resting uncomfortably on something oddly soft and warm. He was lost in that moment of mental blindness which strikes all of us when we're unceremoniously shocked out of the deepest part of our sleep, the knowledge of where he was and how he got there buried in a confused, drowsy haze for the first few moments. Both Arnold's eyes and brain were foggy, only his ears working properly as they registered the sound of rushing water. Perhaps his plane crashed into the sea? His bewilderment only grew when he heard a low groan from the soft mass that had cushioned most of his fall. Strangely, he couldn't feel or move the arm that had draped across his chest. Actually, since when had his arm been that big?

"Ohh, my head..." The source of the groan lamented, sounding every bit as dazed and confused and Arnold felt. A new, equally-sleepy voice joined in from above them, tinged with mild annoyance.

"For pity's sake Miles, I told you if you keep falling off the bed I'll... Miles?"

Arnold's head span round, his sleepiness instantly banished, and suddenly he found himself nose-to-nose with an older face, topped with a messy head of hair the exact same blond shade as his own save for a grey streak or two. Both he and his father's eyes went wide at the same moment, the memory of the previous day flooding back to them in one great rush. Any aches or pains from their ungainly fall were quickly forgotten as each broke into wide, elated grins. Arnold's was technically a little wider, but then he had inherited his mother's head. Before the boy could even breathe, the strong arm than laid across him moved and tightened its grip, and he suddenly found himself being scooped into the air as Miles scrambled to his feet, the man releasing a joyful, laughing roar of delight. Stella, whose hopeful eyes had just begun to peek over the edge of the bed they had all shared, was forced to jolt back to avoid her enthusiastic (and notoriously accident-prone) husband, though her own laughter was quick to follow. For the first time since he was a baby, Arnold felt himself being held tightly to his father's chest, as Miles span him around before crashing backwards to sit on the stone slab. Now dizzy for entirely new reason, Arnold lapsed into giggles as he felt his mother's hand on his cheek.

"It wasn't a dream! Oh thank goodness!" As he spoke, Miles' grip around his son tightened further, leaving the boy barely able to breathe. But Arnold didn't care. Those several seconds had been a greater flight than his dream-plane could ever provide, and he still hadn't come down to Earth.

"M-Miles, honey, you're squishing our son..." Stella fought to speak through her own laughter, gently slapping her husband's arm with her free hand until he relented his grip. Not completely, of course, but enough for Arnold to draw a deep breath. Before his years of inactivity, Miles had been an immensely strong man. Able to swing both he and his wife across a chasm with a single arm, able to pull the weight of an entire cable car. He was out of shape, but apparently he could still give a mean bear hug! That being said, he was also smart enough to read Stella like a book; she was concerned about their son passing out from lack of air, no doubt, but he knew the truth. She wanted a turn. As he freed one arm, Stella was quick to fill the gap, her far thinner arms wrapping tightly around her boy. Just like before, when Arnold had been about to descend with Helga into the eerie depths beneath the city, the boy felt as though she were holding him like she never wanted to let him go again. It was a nice feeling.

"You're both really here! I can't believe it!" Arnold's voice was slightly muffled by his parents' bodies, not that he minded. He could think of worse ways to wake up that to a group hug, and every sound, touch and smell reminded him that everything he had been through in San Lorenzo was real; his greatest dream had actually come true.

"We're here Arnold," Stella pulled back to meet her son's eyes, her hand moving to stroke his messy hair. For the first time he registered that her own eyes were a rich, beautiful hazel, his trusty old photograph lacking the detail. "And we promise we'll never leave you again. Might make things a little awkward when you get married, but we'll worry about that later." She shot him a teasing look as she made her joke, but her words brought the memories of the end of Arnold's night rushing back in full force. He had actually done it. After a year of debating, doubting, questioning and sometimes yearning, he had come out and told Helga that he loved her. And he _did_ love her; he was sure of that much. Or at least, if what he was feeling _wasn't_ love, then it was the most intense, confusing, terrifying, amazing crush that he'd ever experienced by a massive margin! There was a reason he'd hidden from it for so long, after all – it took some serious getting used to! He still had more than a few details to iron out, he suspected they both did, but he got a strange, warm pleasure from the knowledge that they could work out those details together. At least they seemed to be off to a good start with kissing; love or 'like' like, he knew enough to know _that_ one could be a deal-breaker. Their first two kisses, at the altar and under the starlight, had been magical; a distinctly un-boyish way to describe them, he suspected, but it was true. TV had told him that first kisses were supposed to be awkward, messy, often-unpleasant things, neither party having a clue what to do, but somehow their lips seemed to just _fit_. It was weird. Good, but weird, like they were breaking some kind of rule. Not to mention, kissing Helga made him feel an incredible rush of energy that he could never have imagined. Oddly, some part of it had felt comparable to a wave of immense relief, like something wrong had been righted, something missing returned, but he would analyse that more later, when the apprehension of Tiukwí's claims wasn't so fresh in his mind... And as for Helga's final 'outburst' (which he figured was more what people called a 'smooch'), well, he didn't quite feel equipped to handle those yet. But he'd get there. Sadly, Arnold had lost track of the seconds he spent lost in this train of thought, only snapping out of it when his father waved a hand in front of his eyes.

"Bravo, Stel," Miles checked a non-existent watch on his wrist, his eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his lips, "since yesterday we've been awake with our son for around five hours total, and you've already reduced him to mortified silence." His words made Arnold realise that he was more-or-less right; the boy had immediately clammed up in response to his mother's jibe. That embarrassment was probably why the boy's cheeks had quickly blushed maroon. Probably. In any case, Stella's joking talk of marriage drew Arnold's attention back to the elephant in the room (at this rate he would have to name that thing); he still had no clue just how much his parents knew about he and Helga's alleged 'connection'. Stella had said they had 'no idea', but no idea about what? That the 'imbalance' he supposedly corrected was another person? That he _grew up_ with that person? Oh, and of course that would be the person they had caught him _kissing_ not long before! It was enough to give him a headache, and he resolved that then wasn't the time. He was enjoying his first morning with his parents, and he wasn't about to let it go to waste. Like his mother said; they could worry about it later. Of course he still needed to find a response to his parents' joke before the silence got awkward again... Fortunately, the moment was saved by Gerald, and his own supernatural skills of interruption.

" _HatetherainIhatetherainIhate-_ " The family turned to watch as a red streak sped past the entrance to their hut, grumbling loudly all the while as the sky continued its wet assault.

"...Guess that means the others are up." Stella spoke up, a little wide-eyed at the sudden activity. "With the way it's raining, Eduardo probably isn't going to want to hang around; the river can get dangerous if this keeps up. Besides, we don't want to keep your class waiting!" It was a little disappointing, needing to cut the morning short, but what was the alternative? Saturday morning cartoons and breakfast in bed? No, that was what waited for them back in Hillwood. The life they had left behind 'for a couple of weeks'. The life they should have got to share with their son. The stone slabs had taken far too much of their time already. Miles and Stella wanted to go home, and they wanted to go home now. Sadly, that meant ending the little 'family huddle' that the three had found themselves in, and as the seconds ticked by, it became clear that none of them wanted to move. They simply held each other, listening to the rain. Before too long, though, there came the sound of approaching feet, the curtain shortly being pulled aside. A familiar girl entered, the edges of her pigtails drooping heavily with saturation. Mostly though, her head was kept dry by a handsome Stetson.

"Hey Foo-," Helga started, before catching herself once more. ' _Man, I'm gonna have to watch that!_ ' "Hey, Arnold. You guys up?" It was only then that Helga truly took in the scene, the three Shortmans embracing on the small stone bed. Much as her heart melted to see Arnold enjoying a hard-earned tender moment with his family, she felt a rush of guilt for interrupting. She was about to issue a stammered apology before fleeing the scene, when she caught Arnold's eye. His grin became wide (and just a little goofy), and a fresh tinge rose to his cheeks. She had seen that look before, though never aimed in her direction, and she knew precisely what it meant. ' _IT WAS REAL!_ ' She was so caught up in getting her own blushing grin under control that she didn't notice the glance exchanged between Arnold's parents as they looked on. That glance was a lot of things; knowing, adoring, and just a little bit concerned.

"Morning Helga." Arnold finally spoke, breaking the trance. "Yeah, we're ready. Uh... nice hat?" His own words triggered an old reflex, his hand shooting to the top of his head to find his blue cap missing. He quickly spotted it among the sheets he and Miles had dragged with them from the bed, and hopped down to return it to its rightful place. Helga did her best not to snigger at the performance.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm practically the It Girl all over again." She gave the brim of the wide hat a sarcastic, exaggerated tip before continuing. "And yet it's Geraldo who's about to have a hair-related breakdown, so we should probably get moving." Without waiting for an answer, Helga dashed back out of the hut, the downpour preferable to dealing with her Arnold-related self-control issues while his parents sat watching. Still, she almost immediately found herself doing a happy, spinning dance, every drop of the cloudburst a distant afterthought; she couldn't feel cold right then if she tried. Meanwhile, Miles and Stella smiled as their son watched the strange girl leave, his cheeks still faintly pink.

"I like that girl." Arnold's head span round at his mother's words; once again he felt as though they had caught him in an embarrassing moment. He'd heard that was pretty standard when it came to parents, but it would still take some getting used to. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, her other arm around his father's waist. "And she's right, I think your dad and I have been here long enough. Let's go home."

"Yeah. Home." Arnold's smile became wide and toothy once more. It was time to face the day.


	7. Chapter 7 - Taking Something Home

**A/N So, since the last chapter I've been given a couple of very kind shout-outs from some of my fellow authors! Another huge thanks to Call Me Nettie and Starfiction123, and I encourage everyone to check out their own excellent stories if they haven't already. Otherwise, thanks as always to everyone who left such kind feedback, and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 7 - Taking Something Home**

"These are trash bags." Helga's voice and face were flat, as she inspected the thin, black, crumpled plastic in her hands with disdain. At least they were _unused_ trash bags. There was a certain irony in looking for a 'silver lining' when the clouds were quite literal, and were continuing their deluge. Hence the need for 'protective gear'.

"You would prefer to walk through the rain in just your shirt and shorts?" Eduardo inquired without looking in her direction as he continued handing out the thin sacks to each member of their group. The Shortmans had joined the others in their hut so that they could ready themselves for the wet trek ahead – just the short journey from door to door had left Arnold's usually spiked hair slicked back on his head. Helga could only fold her arms and pout; she knew Eduardo was right, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting it. It was actually very fortunate that Eduardo had made his journey prepared, unlike the three children who had been forced to flee Lasombra's prison with little more than the clothes on their backs. She got it – trash bags are cheap, practical and, most importantly, waterproof, but was an actual _poncho_ too much to ask for? Helga had never claimed to be even the slightest bit interested in fashion (as a certain snobby, dark-haired classmate of hers was _frequent_ in pointing out), but she had her limits. And besides, given the amount of her young life she had spent in trash cans, dumpsters, grimy alleyways and (on one particularly gross occasion) the city dump, the bags were just a little too 'on the nose' for her comfort. With a resigned growl she began to manipulate the plastic, creating holes for her head and arms.

"Fine. But I'm keeping the hat."

They were ready to leave, having hastily enjoyed a 'breakfast' consisting of protein bars and trail mix, again courtesy of Eduardo. ' _Just like home._ ' Helga had thought with a roll of her eyes. Actually, the protein bars had been a better brand than Big Bob insisted on buying... They were hoping to avoid yet another feast to celebrate their departure, the fact that their friends and families awaited them providing a perfect excuse not to delay. Each of the children had experienced more than their fill of action and adventure for the time being, and _far_ more than their fill of weirdness. From what they could see outside, it appeared that even more Green-Eyed children were wearing gigantic, leafy 'Arnold heads' that morning – apparently a part of their celebration garb – and one large group were weaving bundles of long vines into what Helga had a horrible suspicion would soon be pigtails... And besides, neither Arnold nor Helga had any interest in giving Tiukwí an opportunity for more life-altering stories. Miles and Stella, much as they adored the Green-Eyed People, could no longer see the incredible city as anything more than a prison, a site of trauma and regret. The place that had stolen their life away. Maybe they could find it in themselves to return one day, if the Green Eyes needed them again, but for now they wanted to get as far away from it as possible. And as for Eduardo, he could only hope that he had earned a deeper level of trust from the mysterious people, and that he would be allowed to return soon. Perhaps he could even aid them in recovering El Corazón. For now though, his greater concern was for his old friends' well-being, and he could feel their anxiousness to see the back of the jungle city. The 'waterproofing' was the final part of the group's preparations. As Helga uncomfortably wiggled the bag over her body, carefully manoeuvring her wide pigtails through the small gap, she did her best to ignore the indignity. It didn't help that the large sack travelled all the way to the floor, concealing her feet like an extremely cheap gown. Complete with the wide-brimmed Stetson, it really was quite the ensemble. And then she heard the chuckle. Turning quickly, with fire in her eyes, she saw Arnold with a hand to his mouth, clearly trying to stop any further laughter from escaping. Her glare could have melted steel, and she pointed a threatening, accusatory finger.

"Something _funny_ , Arnoldo?" The boy rapidly shook his head, his eyes showing an odd mixture of continued amusement and mortal fear. It wasn't like _he_ looked any better; his own bag was comically oversized for his short body, most of it pooling loosely around his feet. Helga was actually a little annoyed that she'd missed him putting it on – how _did_ he fit that football head of his through the neck-holes of his clothes?

"S-sorry Helga. It's just..." Another small giggle escaped Arnold's lips.

"Spit it out Hair Boy!" Ol' Betsy was raised and ready. She'd never _actually_ hit him of course. She never had...

"Between the big hat and the long trash bag, you look like a low-budget Deep Voice!" As Arnold finally gave in, bending over in laughter, his words stole Helga's anger right out from under her, her mouth left hanging open. With a raised eyebrow, and her fist still poised, she slowly looked down, scanning herself. He was right; all she needed was a high collar and some stilts. She couldn't help the short snort of laughter that escaped her nose. ' _Touché, Football Head..._ ' But before she could fire back a retort, a shocked voice cut over them both.

"Helga was _Deep Voice_?!" All eyes turned to Gerald, who was looking back and forth between Arnold and Helga with an expression of stunned disbelief. Arnold's hand once again shot to his mouth, his own eyes wide; an expression that screamed 'oops'. He had always figured that revealing the extent of Helga's involvement that day would lead to further questions. _Awkward_ questions. Ones he simply hadn't been ready to answer, even to his best friend. And sure, he could probably answer them now, but _please_ not in front of his mom and dad...

Helga could only roll her eyes. "Well what the heck did you _think_ I was doing on the roof of that skyscraper? _Sunbathing_?"

Gerald gave her a dry, challenging look, folding his arms. "I dunno Pataki, maybe you were up there getting more shots for your little 'video collection'." Helga's face flushed; she had been forced to reveal way more than she was comfortable with to get Arnold this far, and she wasn't thrilled at the idea of Gerald having that kind of 'dirt'. Granted, if Arnold remembered her little 'poems and shrines' comment from that day, he _probably_ remembered the 'stalking you day and night' part too, but she'd still prefer not to test their new relationship (her heart danced at the very thought of the word) with actual video evidence of her obsessiveness quite yet.

"I'm sorry," Miles came to the rescue, his hand raised like a child with a question, "but who or what is 'Deep Voice', and why were you on the roof of a skyscraper?" He and Stella both wore confused looks, the faces of two people long out of the loop.

"Oh, well this guy Scheck wanted to tear down the neighbourhood, so we-" Gerald immediately set away, clearly ready to let his inner storyteller run wild, but his best friend quickly cut him off.

"Gerald, my parents probably don't want to hear that right now." Apparently Gerald missed the panicky, warning look in Arnold's eyes.

"Aw, but it's such a cool story, man! You rappelled down that thing like some kind of secret agent!"

"Gerald..."

"Then when we jumped that huge gap in the freeway in the bus, and we were all like 'we're gonna die!'"

" _Gerald..._ "

"And when we actually _crashed_ -"

" _GERALD!_ "

It took a combined shout from both Arnold AND Helga to finally break the boy out of his enthusiastic rant, and he blinked in surprise. He opened his mouth, ready to protest, when both blondes pointed fingers at Arnold's parents. They looked like the sleeping sickness had struck them again in full force, their skin as pale as chalk. At some point, maybe around the word 'rappelled', the two had collapsed back to sit on the nearest stone slab, Miles' hand trembling slightly as it clasped his wife's knee, Stella's hand clenched at the clothing above her heart. Realising his mistake, Gerald could only offer his friends an apologetic grimace. The couple seemed almost catatonic... again.

"Mom..? Dad..?" Arnold leaned round to look into their faces, hoping to snap them out of their mutual horror, but apparently it was no good. They were frozen. It would take a parent to understand just how terrifying the images flashing through their minds were at that moment; their son abseiling down a tower, jumping huge gaps like some kind of stuntman, _crashing a_ _bus_! And of course in every vision he was the crawling, diaper-clad infant they had left in Hillwood. The very notion made the memory of the slide incident seem like, well, child's play. After a moments longer, Stella was able to comment, addressing her husband through tight, white lips, resting her head despairingly on his shoulder.

"I blame your mother."

Relieved as he was at hearing his mother speak, Arnold managed to bite his tongue; he figured letting slip that Grandma was busy either busting out of jail or hijacking bulldozer at the time probably wouldn't make them feel any better. Suddenly though, Miles let out a small chuckle. "I blame genetics. Asleep for his whole life and apparently our boy _still_ turned out as crazy as us." He finally managed to look at his son, a shaky smile finding its way to his lips, his eyes pleading. "I think we'd be very interested to hear all about this later. Much, _much_ later, like on our deathbeds." He winced a little – poor choice of words. "But do us a favour kiddo, no more driving, crashing or explosions until you're seventeen?"

"Hey now, the _explosion_ wasn't us-" Gerald succeeded in getting out that much before Helga securely clamped her hand over his mouth. She shook her head; the boy clearly had _no_ tact when it came to handling parents. Arnold, meanwhile, simply nodded his promise, smiling hugely and still floating slightly from his father's words. ' _As crazy as them_ '. Sure, there were probably more normal things to have in common with your parents than high-octane heroics, but talk about a strong start! The hug that soon followed nearly sent both Miles and Stella reeling back on to the bed, but they found the strength to return it. Once again, somehow the ten-year-old wound up being the one to comfort his parents instead of the other way around.

"I'm sorry to break this up," Eduardo regretfully interrupted with a chuckle – he had _really_ missed this family, "but it is time to go. If this keeps up much longer, we could be stuck here for another day." The threat was more than adequate, and the group quickly separated and made ready to depart. The children made short work of tearing away any plastic that trailed on the floor; the last thing you want on a jungle hike is a tripping hazard... It was finally time. With a collection of resolute sighs (and more grumbling from Gerald), the group left the hut and stepped out into the storm, the water by this point turning the cobbled pavement into a veritable sluice. Somehow though, seeing the green expanse of the jungle being soaked with rain made it seem all the more alive and vibrant. And their ears hadn't been mistaken about the radical new strength of the city's waterfalls, it seemed; each roared as they carried a powerful torrent from beyond the stone walls. The river suddenly seemed a more frightening prospect... They would have to say their goodbyes before they left, they knew, and the delighted shouts and cries of the Green Eyes followed them as they walked. Apparently the downpour didn't bother the natives one bit – it would take more than a little rain to dampen their spirits, given what they had recovered since the previous day – and the group quickly gained an entourage as they moved towards the grand throne room. There sat the king and queen, resplendent on their thrones, their beaming daughter to one side and Tiukwí at the other. How strange it was that, as they approached, the nobility of the Green Eyes stood and bowed in reverence and gratitude to the three children. Tiukwí stepped forward, staff in hand and enormous smile in place, and both Arnold and Helga reflexively braced themselves. If he produced a piglet, they were ready to flee.

"My friends! We are so sad that you are leaving us, but so happy that you may finally return home." His eyes turned to Miles and Stella with that last comment, and the couple shared an excited, loving look. "I do not have the words, in your language or my own, to express the gratitude of my people. You are heroes, every one of you, and you have saved us all. We will _never_ forget. Know that you will always be welcome here, and that the hearts of our people shall always be with you." He suddenly raised his staff, his voice booming over the crowd – it seemed that every man, woman and child had now gathered to view the send-off – as he spoke in the Green Eyes' tongue. His words were alien to the children, though the adults shared a curious look. But the final two stood out.

" _AR-NOLD! HEL-GA!_ " As before, the remaining Green-Eyed People picked up the chant, their voices all filled with elation. Once again, Arnold and Helga found an entire civilisation offering them their praise. Their friend could only shake his head.

"Mmm mmm _mmm_. Is it too much to ask for a _little_ worship? Ger-ald, Ger-ald; it ain't so hard!" His complaints were snatched away, however, as the royal family stepped forward. While the king and queen shared an embrace with Miles, Stella and Eduardo, the princess approached the three children.

" _Thank you, my friends!_ " Her words were careful and her accent thick, but it was clear she had asked (or ordered) Tiukwí to teach her the words. Without hesitation, she clasped Gerald's hands and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek. The boy blushed and grinned, though neither were as intense or goofy as when Phoebe had done the same. Still, he seemed a little less put out.

Helga was about to make a teasing comment (probably about giving a full report of the kiss to her best friend ASAP) when the girl quickly moved to her, wrapping her arms around her in an enthusiastic hug. Helga's hands were frozen at her sides; she suspected she would _never_ get used to Green-Eyed gratitude. They were all just so _touchy-feely_... She could only mutter and roll her eyes once again; "Sheesh, don't crease the plastic..." It didn't help that Arnold was grinning affectionately at the display as the embrace came to an end. Helga narrowed her eyes at the boy. ' _Yeah, laugh it up Football Head. Speak a word of this and I'll... Well, I'll still be head-over-heels in love with you, but I can still love you with fewer teeth! Oh who am I kidding – I adore that beautiful smile..._ '

Unfortunately, Helga had chosen a poor moment to get lost in romantic musings; it affected her reflexes. Under normal circumstances, she probably could have intercepted the princess _before_ she reached Arnold. Instead, she could only feel her jaw drop, then grit, as Arnold received a chaste kiss on the cheek too, just like Gerald. Seeing the princess take his hand when they first arrived had been enough to strike a sour chord, but _this_? In his defence, Arnold stepped back as though the princess was on fire. He was new to the whole 'relationship' thing (just thinking the word made his his stomach feel funny, in a way that he was _pretty_ sure was good) but a combination of TV, knowing Helga, and basic survival instinct told him to make his next moves very, _very_ carefully. He slowly turned his head, more than a little afraid of what he would see, and sure enough Helga's eyes were shooting daggers. Her fists were clenched like industrial vices. Somehow, the fact that the girl was wearing a trash bag and a cowboy hat didn't make the sight even the tiniest bit less frightening... Arnold had never wished ill on anybody in his life, least of all the horrific ill that lay at the hands of _Helga G. Pataki_ , but he was relieved that those daggers were shooting at the princess rather than him. As Helga finally met his eye, all he could do was offer his most apologetic look and hope she spared his life. His hands, which the princess had gently held, were held up like those of a man at gunpoint. As it happened, he was fortunate; his reaction passed the test of whatever part of Helga's mind was still logical, but the Green-Eyed princess had most certainly made the blonde girl's list... It really didn't help that the unsuspecting girl was still standing by, giving the group an innocent smile, much as Tiukwí had done in the ancient chamber the previous night. If this civilisation was going to worship Helga G. Pataki, they _really_ needed to learn to spot when their goddess was about to murder them. That being said, it was the old man who came to his princess' rescue, a spark of concern in his eyes; if Tiukwí could see 'the energy that flows through us', then he was probably looking at something pretty unsettling in Helga just then. He hobbled over to the girl and whispered something in her ear.

What happened next was apparently universal, transcending all language and cultures. No words were needed. On hearing whatever Tiukwí had to say, the princess gave a tiny gulp, her own bright green eyes going a little wide. Backing _carefully_ away from Arnold, her gaze locked with Helga's own fiery stare; the words 'sorry' and 'please don't hurt me' might as well have been painted across the native girl's face. Helga's eyes narrowed, but Arnold exhaled as he sensed the tension going down. Maybe it was because Helga's fists had gone from 'coal to diamonds' tightness to 'bones to dust' tightness. He could just tell. All the same, he barely even noticed Gerald sidling towards him until the boy spoke in a tense whisper.

"Dude, I don't know what just happened, but I'm _scared_." Arnold returned a numb nod.

"I'm scared too Gerald." As he spoke, Helga finally broke eye-contact with the terrified girl, glancing at the boys with an irritated 'what?', her remaining fury draining away. Arnold gulped. "I think it's healthy to be scared." Fear aside, Arnold had just watched Helga stare down royalty and come out on top, makeshift plastic poncho and all. There was something about that which struck him as very... cool. Though it was really more of a warm feeling. He'd add that to the pile of 'things to analyse later' (by that point the pile was getting to be as big as the elephant), but for now he just wanted the moment to end while all parties still had their lives. Fortunately, the adults seemed to have finished their goodbyes. As they turned to go, Arnold and Helga found their shoulders gently caught by Tiukwí one final time. He leaned down slightly; his words were for the two of them alone.

"Do not be afraid, my young friends. Your destiny is a bright one."

Neither of the children know what to say to that, as the old man broke away and returned to the king's side, but their eyes met. For the first time that day, their fingers brushed. But they kept their hands apart; whatever this was between them was still new and untested, and there was too much of an audience. Call it shyness. If nothing else, both Arnold and Helga preferred the idea of Gerald hearing it from them rather than working it out on his own; Arnold didn't want his best friend to feel lied to again, and Helga just didn't want to give Tall Hair Boy the satisfaction. Like they had said, there were kinks to iron out, the appropriate times and places for physical contact being one of them, and they could wait to deal with those until they weren't standing in the middle of the pouring jungle with a bunch of Green Eyes cheering them on. As they walked away the crowd followed them, some chanting, others laughing, the children continuing to dance around the arms and legs of their parents. To them, the storm was just another wonderful reminder that they were _alive_ , alive and awake, every drop and wet splash a sensation to be thankful for. Only Miles and Stella could possibly relate, with one enormous exception; the Green-Eyed People were _home_. By comparison, Arnold's parents still had a long way to go. But they were getting closer, with each and every step.

As the group finally made their way past the vast, ornate gateway to the city, they paused to look back, to take in the ancient, mystical marvel that was the Green-Eyed People's civilisation just one last time, watching as the strange machine in the city's central mound released a mighty burst of steam. Even then, the children could scarcely believe that the last few days had been real. The thought that they would soon return to filling their days in Hillwood, playing sports in a vacant lot and throwing rocks at dumpsters, made them feel somehow small. It made their world feel small... But each of them was taking something home with them. A reunited family. A finally-requited love. The most incredible legend that a kid of any generation could have the privilege to keep. Those things would remind them that all of this had truly happened. The cheers of the crowd washed over them one final time, rising above the rainfall, before a pair of Green Eyes stepped forward, raising their hands to either side of the gate. With a rush, and a final glow, the jungle itself moved to complete it's embrace of the Green-Eyed People, hiding their city once more from the rest of the world, the incredible sight lost behind a barrier of nature. Even the sound was cut away, the trickling of the rain and the calls of the wild moving in to fill the silence. The group stood quietly for a moment, suddenly feeling as though they had stepped through a portal into the real world. But in the real world, it was still raining.

"Follow me, mis amigos," Eduardo finally spoke, his gaze remaining wistfully trained on the gateway for a few moments longer, "we have a long way to go."


	8. Chapter 8 - That Explosive Day

**A/N Apologies for the break in service! I took a little time off on account of becoming a year older. So very, very old... Thanks to everybody who reviewed the last chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 8 - That Explosive Day**

Walking through the forest can be a deeply enjoyable experience. Couples can stroll hand-in-hand, relishing the company of their significant other in the tranquillity of nature, the outside world and its troubles a distant afterthought. Parents can stroll and laugh, shouting out the mandatory 'be careful's to their children as they sprint ahead, their minds filled with memories of when they were young and did the exact same thing. Somehow a forest can bend and adapt to be beautiful in almost any weather, as if able to cover itself in a glamour. When the sun is shining and the air is warm, the bright colours and subtle fragrances of nature come forward in abundance. When the branches are bare, and ground is tinged with scatterings of thin, white frost, the sight of your breath misting in front of you and the echoing crunches of your footsteps on dry leaves can make you feel more alive and at peace than ever before. Even when rain falls (within reason of course – few enjoy being out in a thunderstorm) the very sound of the raindrops, or the unique scent of ozone taken in with each breath, can be invigorating. Of course, an umbrella always helps.

This wasn't one of those walks.

"Miles?" The man paused at the sound of his wife's voice, if only for a moment, carefully pushing aside a branch of gigantic, sodden leaves. Eduardo hadn't been wrong; the rain wasn't as heavy under the thick, green ceiling of the canopy. Unfortunately, that just toned things down from 'impassable' to 'deeply unpleasant'. The air was still filled with the sounds of rushing water, as if a raging river lay in every direction, and the ground had quickly started to become boggy as it greedily drank in the moisture, making every step a fight against the thick mud. Even the animals seemed to be in hiding, the odd colourful bird screeching as it darted between hidden perches. This was a walk through the forest with the dial turned well past eleven; holding his wife's hand would probably just mean _both_ of them would fall over when they inevitably stumbled (as if the 'trail' was wide enough for more than single file regardless), and if the children with them ran ahead, they'd be legitimately likely to fall down a ravine. What a welcome back to the waking world! Miles' feet were wet, Miles' hair was wet, and makeshift poncho aside, Miles' underpants were wet... He was ecstatic to be alive and awake, no bones about it, but at least you can't chafe in your dreams...

"Yeah Stel?" He held the branch as his wife passed. One of the first things he learned as a field anthropologist was this: there is _nothing_ more obnoxious than an inconsiderate companion letting the branch slap you in the face as they walk ahead. Stella offered a brief, grateful smile. Both of them were trying to hide how out of breath they were, though the hidden city was less than an hour behind them.

"You remember when Arnold was born?" Miles raised an incredulous eyebrow at Stella's question. Between the volcano, the mystical temple, the _abundant_ screaming and the arrival of his firstborn, it had been a pretty memorable day.

"Uh, _vaguely_."

"You remember how you carried me on that stupid, rickety chair-palanquin thing you and Eduardo threw together in under five minutes?" Stella pressed on as they resumed walking, now ahead of her husband.

"Yes. You told me, and I quote, 'so help me, I'm not risking the life of our baby on your crummy DIY skills'. Then another contraction hit, you shot up there like a squirrel monkey, and screamed at us to get moving until your face turned purple."

"That's the one." The woman was finally forced to pause, panting. Perhaps the combination of walking AND talking had taken more energy than her body could spare right then, and she doubled over slightly as she caught her breath. Miles was quick to come to her side, though he could do little more than gently rub her back to offer comfort. He used to be a chivalrous, piggyback sort of guy, and he knew that she loved that about him (although she'd smirk and roll her eyes at him regardless when he offered)... But if he was honest, he was running on fumes himself by that point. He reaffirmed his oath to regain his strength in that moment.

"So, what about it?" He enquired, quietly enjoying the short break.

Stella turned to him, her exhaustion barely hidden behind a weak, playful grin. She couldn't hide her tired eyes, though. "I've changed my mind. It was a great chair. I loved that chair. That was, without question, the best chair in the world, Chippendale be darned. So you can go ahead and make me another one – I'll wait." Miles could only laugh and rest his head against her own, both of their eyes closing for a moment; he loved this woman so very much.

"Are you guys ok?" They were broken out of their quiet trance (fortunately before either of them could drift off) as each felt a small hand gently clasping their shoulder. They opened their eyes to see their son staring at them intently, his face filled with worry. It was a conflicting moment...

Seeing him still filled them with so much joy; intense and overwhelming, like pure white fire. It was a joy that only parents get to know, magnified a thousandfold by the pain of separation. They had thought about him each and every night, once darkness fell and they couldn't work any longer on the precious cure, imagining him growing little by little without them with every day that passed. They had clung to the memory of him as the awful sickness stole each of them away. And of course they both dreamed of him. How strange that, even when you sleep for nine long years, you _still_ find memories of your dreams so hard to grasp. Like handfuls of sand, the images are quickly lost through the unsealed cracks and gaps of your mind, until they're gone forever for the most part. But they had flashes. In sweet dreams, the one's where they reunited with their boy, he would be happy, healthy and beaming. He would be the little child they remembered, unharmed by their long absence and theirs once again. Or perhaps he would grow without them; those bittersweet dreams where they never returned, but where his life was a happy one regardless. In those visions, he would be as tall and strong as his father, and as sharp and brilliant as his mother. Sometimes he would have a family of his own, who he loved and who loved him in return. He would never, ever leave them.

But then, as always, there were nightmares. Horrible visions where they would find themselves in a Hillwood twisted and changed by time into a place beyond their recognition, and filled with a gigantic faceless crowd. They always knew that their son was there, somewhere, but he didn't know them, and they couldn't recognise him. Any passer-by with blonde hair that they grabbed would be a stranger. Any time they shouted his name, there would be no answer. But they were awake now, and Arnold was with them. Every time they looked at him, every time they saw his face, was like a new lesson; Arnold 101, 102, 103. Every curve and line was studied and memorised, ever tiny feature carefully catalogued and compared to the face of a baby they'd seen nearly a decade ago. Every miniscule change and maturation that happened in their absence was noticed. But all the same, they had _known_ him. Instantly and without doubt, even through eyes that hadn't seen use in years, they had known their son. The nightmares would never come true; they could make sure of that now. Just feeling his hands on their shoulders somehow invigorated them, granting an extremely welcome second wind. There was the conflict; their son had worried about _them_ for more than long enough, and his concerned expression cut them deeply. It should always have been the other way around.

"We're fine, Sweetie," Stella offered Arnold a far more convincing smile than the one Miles had received, "we just needed to catch our breath for a minute. We're a little out of practice!" The couple rose, each supporting the other and both regretting the loss of contact as Arnold's hands fell away.

"Are you both alright?" Eduardo, who had been leading the group, echoed Arnold's question, having backtracked on noticing their sudden halt. Helga and Gerald now waited further ahead, each looking decidedly impatient. The man relaxed a little as the couple gave him reassuring nods. He would never cease to be amazed at what Miles and Stella could handle, although he _still_ wondered if Miles had embellished the 'cable car' story from their honeymoon. Granted, he had found his friend afterwards reclining by the pool with multiple fractured bones, but Miles could crack his skull playing table tennis... "Ok. The boat is less than a mile away, and I have more food, water and blankets inside. Are you sure you don't need a break?" It was a serious question, but he and Miles shared a smirk. The private joke had started sometime after Miles had broken his third bone while hiking during their college days.

"I think we'll all be happier taking a _rest_ ," Miles narrowed his eyes good-naturedly at his friend, "when we've got a roof over our heads. That's assuming the boat is _actually_ a mile away, and we're not just going in the wrong direction." Eduardo shook his head and rolled his eyes, his shoulders sagging exaggeratedly.

" _Ay_ , I got us lost _one_ time and you've never let me forget it. And as I recall, it allowed you to meet your _wife_ – I was clearly being guided by a higher power!"

"Yeah, yeah. All the same, if you try to tell us that the boat is 'just around that mountain' I _will_ slug you." Miles folded his arms in mock threat, though the other man simply shrugged.

"Bueno. Better you than Stella." The men's eyes locked for several moments before both both lapsed into hearty laughter, Stella joining in with her own giggles. Friends reunited after nine years. Blink of an eye.

"Hey, remember when-" Miles began.

"It's _RAINING!_ " Their attention was abruptly grabbed by Helga, who had marched back and now stood with folded arms and a tapping (or splashing) foot. A steady stream of water now flowed from the brim of the hat, which she had insisted on keeping as 'insurance' for Eduardo's guiding services. She looked decidedly unimpressed. "Just thought I'd remind you all." Helga used one hand to casually gesture at their soaked surroundings. She had been concerned at first. _Really_ she had. A jungle trek in a downpour? Hardly the right way for Arnold's parents to start their first day in nearly a decade. She was pretty sure that they were putting on a brave face – something she knew a little about – and that they were actually exhausted. Happy and eager, maybe, but exhausted. Poor guys... But crimeny, this was _not_ the time for a fun round of banter! And besides, hers was the life of Helga G. Pataki; Arnold had just returned her affections the day before (cue mental squeal), and she was ready to bet that the universe would just _jump_ at the chance to balance that out with a lethal case of pneumonia. Some small part of her mind cringed – after all, it was Arnold's _parents_ she was telling off – but she could worry about being respectful when she wasn't waterlogged! She was only human. Probably.

The young girl's outburst caused both Miles and Eduardo to stop laughing, both of them looking sheepish as they were faced by her scowl, but Stella quietly snickered for a few moments longer, her hand covering her mouth. "S-sorry Helga, I never could get these dopes to keep their eyes on the trail. How about you make sure Eduardo stays focussed up front, and I'll keep Miles moving back here – make sure they stay separated."

Helga shrugged, secretly relieved that he hadn't caused offence. "Yeah, sure." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Front and centre, Ed, we're not getting any younger or drier here!" As Eduardo resumed his position, forging their way ahead with continued 'encouragement' from the pigtailed girl, Arnold and Gerald shared a brief amused look (though Gerald quickly reburied his face behind his hood); Helga was using her 'sports coach' voice. They probably shouldn't have been surprised that it worked on adults too. They pressed on in determined silence, for a while, the sounds of squelching footsteps and tired grunts occasionally rising above the dim of the rainfall. Arnold, though, stayed closer to his parents than before; he'd _carry_ them both back to civilisation himself if he had to.

"Hey, Ed?" After some time Helga spoke quietly to the man ahead of her, her throat a little hoarse from the 'drill sergeant' routine. Plus, she didn't necessarily want Arnold's folks to hear this; the Shortmans and Gerald had fallen slightly behind, and she was counting on the rain to block out the low conversation. Eduardo gave a sound of acknowledgement, the majority of his focus on clearing the foliage that blocked their way. "What _did_ happen when Arnold was born?" It was far from the best time to bring it up, but the questions had been quietly piling up in her mind; what she overheard of Miles and Stella's exchange brought them to the forefront. Sure, she could ask Arnold, but at this point she figured he didn't know much more than she did. Kids tend not to remember being born that well... And as for his parents, well, she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to take on casual conversation with them just yet. The fact that they even _existed_ weirded her out a little, like a huge new chapter had been unceremoniously shoved into the middle of her 'Arnold File'. Arnold didn't have parents. It was just one of those things that _is_. Or _was_ , she supposed. No-one really talked about it or mentioned it (the great and tactful Big Bob aside...) and even Arnold's bringing them up in the alleyway back in Hillwood had thrown her for a loop. Sure, the idea of actually _finding_ them had crossed her mind (she inwardly cringed as the words 'lost losers' floated through her memory), but realistically she'd just expected Arnold to get some closure! And now they were walking a few metres behind her... It was spooky, and if _she_ was having trouble processing this, then Arnold must have been going nuts! Besides, if she talked to them they could bring up the kiss they'd witnessed, or any number of Tiukwí-related topics that she _knew_ she wasn't ready to take on. She knew the story, or at least bits of it, pieced together from what she'd heard from Tiukwí and Arnold; a volcano erupting, a baby crying in a temple, and all of nature falling still. It was almost impossible to believe, much as she idolised Arnold and even in spite of the last couple of days, and somehow 'Tiukwí the unfeasibly ancient' failed to strike her as a reliable source of information. But Eduardo had been there too, hadn't he?

The man turned, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, and his eyes quickly darted from Helga's anxious face to the remainder of the group a short distance behind. He could understand her being curious, and he could _certainly_ understand her being nervous if what Tiukwí had told them was true... Turning back, his face now hidden, he finally responded. His voice was wistful. "It was one of the strangest and most exciting days of my life. And I was not even the one having a baby! Miles, Stella and I had been helping to develop a small community many miles from here, not far from Vulcán Turriable – the volcano you may have seen in the distance. We were doing important work for the people there, and Stella refused to leave until she absolutely had to. Arnold arrived a little early, just a week or two, and this meant that we were... not well-placed when the time came." Helga gave a small cringe; talk about the downsides of being stubborn.

"Miles and I tried to carry her to a hospital. We took every crazy shortcut we could think of! But just when we thought we might make it, the volcano actually _erupted_." Helga gave a small gulp; so that part had been true. "Of all the days for such a thing to happen... Vulcán Turriable had been dormant for centuries! I had never seen the like of it, and I never hope to again. At least not from that distance! The lava spread _so_ quickly. There was fire everywhere. I had never been so scared in my life." Helga saw Eduardo give a small shudder before he pressed on. "We thought we were trapped. Stella could not go any further. But then we saw smoke in the distance. _Green_ smoke. We knew the Green-Eyed People considered Miles and Stella to be familia, but we had heard nothing from them in months. Still, it seemed they were watching over us that day. I don't know how Stella found the strength, but we followed the signal, and we found the temple hidden deep in the jungle. On any other day, Miles and I would have been drooling!" He gave a soft chuckle. "But all that mattered then was that it was above ground. We got Stella inside, and I left them to focus on..." He glanced back at his young audience. "Well, I left them. I stood outside and watched the lava spread. It was chaos!" Helga's heart skipped a beat; hadn't Tiukwí used the same word? "The jungle was in flames. The lava was surrounding us again, and the air stank of sulphur. I saw animals trying to escape the destruction, screeching and howling. It was terrible, as if nature itself was _screaming_! My best friends were having their child behind me, and I truly thought we were all going to die..." His hand moved to his face. If he was wiping away rain water or tears, Helga couldn't tell. "And then Arnold cried. I am not a superstitious man – I have seen enough to know that reality is strange enough on its own, and I imagine you have too after all this – but something _happened_ in that moment. His cries cut over _everything_. I swear I saw animals stop and stare in our direction, and even _I_ felt an amazing wave of... peace." He let out a short sigh. "But the strangest thing was the volcano. It stopped the very _instant_ Arnold made his first sounds. Even the fires caused by the eruption seemed less ferocious. After that, making it to the hospital was easy, and Arnold didn't cry again once during the entire journey." He paused to beat away a chunk of thick vegetation, and glanced back in Helga's direction. "I _do_ believe in coincidences, but I have my limits."

Helga wasn't sure when her jaw had dropped – maybe sometime around the 'nature was screaming' part of Eduardo's little recap – but she hadn't got round to closing it by the time the story ended. Eduardo's first-hand recollection certainly painted a more vivid picture of her beloved's first birthday than Tiukwí had offered, changing it in her mind from some sensational storybook legend to a very real (and very frightening) experience, and a shiver was travelling slowly down her spine. More troubling was that Eduardo's version of events matched Tiukwí's more-or-less perfectly. A football-headed little baby being born into chaos, and silencing all of nature with a cry... She wasn't used to writing 'epic saga'-style poetry, but boy was she feeling inspired to try! And she was meant to be, what, the... _equivalent_... of that? Helga wasn't a stranger to a good, healthy scream, and she'd even been known to shed a tear or two herself, but she was pretty sure she'd never caused any natural disasters... But then again, Arnold was here now, sharing her world. He always had been, ever since that explosive day. She had a nasty feeling that, if she hadn't already been soaked to the bone, she would have started to sweat. Helga had been more than ready to accept Tiukwí's story; being Arnold's universal soulmate was pretty much the perk to end all perks (long live the Exciting Option!), and the idea of being destined for greatness was pretty much just icing on that fantastic cake. But suddenly things were feeling very, very big. And a little dangerous... If all of this really _was_ true, then just what the heck were she and Arnold capable of? What _were_ they? She had told Arnold to lock away the weirdness in a box until he felt ready to handle it, but it takes a pretty robust box to hold a volcanic eruption.

"Look, I know the old man told you guys some... _stuff_ about Arnold. And me, I guess." She decided to be upfront; it was made easier by the fact that she was once again talking to the back of Eduardo's head. "What do _you_ think of all this? Do you really think Football Head actually _cried_ a volcano to death? 'Cause just saying it out loud makes it sound crazy to me!" She took a breath, trying to keep her tone level; she still wanted to keep the conversation private.

"You always call the boy you like 'Football Head'?" Eduardo turned back, his brow once again raised, this time in amusement, and Helga facepalmed, blushing at her inevitable slip. On a different day she might have bitten back at that kind of comment, but right now she just wanted answers. The man chuckled, giving a small shake of his head as he turned back. "Do I think the volcano stopped because of Arnold? ...Sí. Yes, I do. I do not pretend to understand how, or why, but I know what I saw that day. But I do not believe he simply 'willed' the volcano to stop. The Green Eyes believe that the volcano erupted because nature was out of balance." Helga didn't particularly like the curious look he turned to give her at that comment. "Arnold fixed that just by coming into the world. As for the rest..." He seemed to look her up and down; it made Helga feel as though he were double-checking her for wings, or a halo, or maybe some big sign around her neck saying 'I AM A GODDESS – PLEASE BOW TO ME'. She was just a child. A skinny blonde girl with pigtails, sporting this season's very latest in plastic fashion. Nothing to see here. "You and Arnold did something _amazing_ here. I don't think many people, if _any_ other people, could have done what you did. Your friend Gerald and I, we helped, yes, but we could have done nothing for Miles, Stella or the Green Eyes without the two of you. And you are only niños! Let's just say I agree that the two of you are something _very_ special. Ah!"

Their conversation ended abruptly as, with the removal of one final piece of stubborn overgrowth, the river and boat both finally came into view, the latter tied securely to the shore as the swollen river fought to drag it away. It was the very same vessel that they had once mistaken for a pirate ship. And it was yet another conflicting sight; the boat was sweet salvation after their exhausting hike, but the way the small craft tossed and bobbed recklessly in the gushing current could have been a literal picture of seasickness. Helga bit her tongue, forcing back the remainder of her questions as their companions approached.

"Hey, so you're pretty good at sailing this thing, right?" The rest of the group had caught up, wearily emerging onto the riverbank, and Gerald had been the first to speak. In a strange way Arnold, and even _Helga,_ were a little relieved; he had been uncharacteristically silent during their journey, save for some quiet, sullen grumbles that had drifted past the tightly-pulled folds of his hood. He was now staring at the unsteady vessel with wary apprehension. And he thought getting on a _bike_ had been a frightening concept...

"Not to worry, my friend." Eduardo offered him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I have been travelling this river since before you were born. And the boat is very reliable – it is almost new!"

Gerald's eyes narrowed at Eduardo's final 'comforting' comment. "Oh yeah? What happened to your _last_ boat?"

"Not important." Eduardo waved a dismissive hand. "Vamos!" The man strode ahead, leaving Gerald to give the rest of the group a wide-eyed look of stunned disbelief. Most of them could only shrug, before slowly following in Eduardo's wake.

"He really can sail very well." Miles knelt down and offered Gerald a second comforting hand on the shoulder as he passed, before turning his eyes in Eduardo's direction, a shadow passing over his face. "It's his piloting you want to watch out for."

As the group carefully boarded one-by-one, Gerald was left alone on the bank, still spluttering slightly from Miles' offhand comment. For a few moments he looked at the tumbling boat, then up at the pouring, grey sky, and finally back in the direction of the dense forest. He considered his options... But suddenly, the clouds themselves spoke with a colossal peal of thunder, which _almost_ drowned out the boy's terrified cry. It made his decision a lot easier. Sprinting towards the boat (which he desperately hoped was properly grounded), he growled under his breath.

"I _HATE_ the jungle..."

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 **A/N The greatest gift you can give is the gift of feedback :D**


	9. Chapter 9 - Assuming This is True

**A/N It's another long one! Thanks as always to everyone who left such kind feedback for the previous chapter! Please enjoy, and please keep letting me know if you do - your reviews make my day :).**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 9 - Assuming This is True**

"Ok. I can work with this."

Helga had surveyed the interior of the boat, and now stood with arms folded and brow raised. Honestly, she was impressed! This was more than a little step up from the small, creaking craft that Lasombra had sailed as he lured them into the jungle. Each of the small cabins was warm, dry and fitted with clean, comfortable cots; a far cry from the dark, dingy quarters stacked high with mouldering hammocks that their class had filled before the exciting 'detour'. The decks and hull (and comfortingly, the safety rails) lacked the other boat's generous coating of thick rust. Even the bathrooms (this boat had more than one, thank goodness) were clean and hygienic, not to mention functional! Though in fairness, Lasombra's vessel had a working toilet until Harold came aboard... Sure, it was still by no means a million dollar yacht, but compared to the last few days of unforgiving jungle, pirate prisons and rigid stone slabs, this was the lap of luxury! Too bad the lap was bouncing so hard...

Once the group had safely boarded, Eduardo had wasted no time in manning the controls, the boat's engines roaring to life with the press of a few buttons. Maybe the kids were biased, but this boat even _sounded_ better than the last one. At least if this turned out to be another pirate ship, it was apparently a more successful pirate ship... Miles and Stella had quickly gone to work releasing the craft from its mooring, their experienced hands remembering the steps, and just like that, they were on their way. Sadly, 'on their way' was a much slower term than when they were heading _down_ the river. The current was raging against them, desperately fast and unpredictable, and the boat lurched and tilted as fresh waves assaulted it with every passing second, battling its way towards their destination. As she fought to keep her balance, Helga suspected this was how her mother felt during her rodeo days. This wouldn't be a short or smooth ride, and the children had quickly been ushered safely inside while the adults worked to get them on course.

"Well that's great Pataki; I'm so happy you're enjoying the décor." Once he finally worked up the courage to board, Gerald had wasted no time in rooting out fresh towels, quickly followed by the thickest blanket he could find. By the end of the trek his hoody had been so ridiculously saturated that it probably could have served as the boat's anchor, and it now sat crumpled in a growing puddle alongside a collection of shredded plastic. All the same, being dry and cocooned in a warm blanket had apparently done nothing to take the sour edge from Gerald's tone. Maybe it was the hair – it was still droopy, despite his best efforts. In any case, he sat sulkily on the cot furthest away from the room's small window as his friends followed suit, quickly drying themselves as best they could. Arnold and Helga blinked in surprise; it wasn't like Gerald to snap like that. Then again, he'd barely said a word since they left the hidden city.

"What's your problem?" Helga shot him a standard scowl as she wrung out the ends of her pigtails. It was a lot more familiar with her bow back on display, dry and pristine no less. Eduardo had insisted on reclaiming his hat before sailing, and Helga had reluctantly complied; when your last boat exploded, you kind of want your captain to have his lucky charm. "We get it; you _hate_ the jungle! But now you're warm, you're dry, and _look_ ; you've even got that nice, modern bathroom you wanted so badly." She gestured wildly to a nearby door; unlike their lodgings for the night, this room actually _did_ have an en suite... "I bet you it _flushes_ and everything! So why the heck are you still acting like someone kicked your puppy?"

Gerald's clenched fists tightened on his lap, his face set; he wasn't as accomplished a scowler as Helga, but the spirit was clearly there. The truth was that a long walk in the miserable, pouring rain gives you plenty of time to stew, and Gerald was just about ready to boil over. "Oh, you wanna know? You want an itemised breakdown? Ok! In the last, cuuh..." He groaned at another boom of thunder, this one accompanied by a bright flash from the window, far too close for comfort no matter how well-grounded you are. The momentary silence was filled by yet more heavy rain, the drops now thudding and resonating as they bounced off the metal walls and hammered against the windowpane; far more familiar sounds to the inner-city children, not that it offered much comfort. Gerald took a breath, his eyes closed and his clenched hands now trembling a little. His voice was softer when he continued, filled with forced, resolute calm. "In the last couple of days I've been tricked, kidnapped, threatened, put in jail, beat up, exhausted, and _terrified_. I nearly died, _multiple times_! My _best friend_ nearly died!" Another clap of thunder filled the room, but this one went unacknowledged; Gerald was on the worst kind of roll, and everything was tumbling out. "And you know what? It's cool. That's aaall cool. Ain't the first time we've done something crazy, right?" He looked back and forth between Arnold and Helga, his brows raised. It was true – at least he didn't have to drive a bus this time. "But what's _not_ cool is that my best friend has suddenly started keeping secrets from me!" He shot Arnold a hurt, accusatory look, the blond boy's face falling in response.

"But Gerald, I said I was sorry for before! I thought you forgave me for that!" Arnold pleaded; betraying Gerald's trust before had torn him apart.

"Yeah, I did! I forgave you," his voice started to rise again, "then I busted you out of jail, let you drag me through the jungle, and helped you save a whole civilisation, _plus_ your parents! Then you disappear down some spooky hole, come out looking more freaked than I've ever _seen_ you, and you pull the same thing again? And I won't even _mention_ the fact that you kept the whole Deep Voice thing to yourself for a _whole year_! What the heck, man!?"

"Whoa, take a breath, ok?" Gerald's angry eyes darted to Helga; since when was _she_ the voice of reason? It was weird to see her looking _concerned_ rather than angry, especially when Arnold was involved. "Look, Arnold told you, what happened down there was _nuts_ , and it's not like we've had a lot of free time since it happened. You're gonna get the full story, alright? Just give the kid some time to process!" Her words succeeded in deflating a little of Gerald's anger. Looking at his best friend with unclouded eyes, his heart sank; Arnold looked devastated. He let out a weary sigh, rubbing his face with both hands.

"Aargh... Look, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm tired, and I hate the rain, and I _really_ hate thu-" he caught himself, coughing slightly. No need to reveal his fears to Phoebe's best friend; he had an image to maintain. "I know you're gonna tell me, I do. I just got overheated for a second. But you gotta understand," he turned to Arnold, "you did all this to find your parents, and I totally get that." He turned to Helga, pointing a finger. "And I _know_ why you did all this, and you _might_ notice I've been too polite to say anything about it till now, in spite of everything. But I figure even Arnold isn't dense enough to not get it after that whole locket business, not to mention you guys' little _display_ last night." Little did he know. Both Arnold and Helga blushed at that, the latter looking away with a pout and crossed arms before he continued. It wouldn't have been a 'display' if he hadn't butted in! "But _I_ did this to help my best friend, and I feel like I got the raw deal here. Now I don't mind the fact that the Green Eyes didn't worship me or anything. I don't even mind that I didn't get to go down there with you... too much. But don't I deserve to not be left out of this?" His rage was gone now, and his eyes were pleading. It was a moment that lasted for about two seconds, until Helga gave a small snort of laughter. Even though Arnold and Gerald both shot her their best 'what the heck' looks, she couldn't help but smirk.

"Football Head said almost the _exact_ same thing after all that craziness last night – man, you two are such a couple."

Arnold could only facepalm, with his own weary groan, but Gerald simply looked confused. "Wait, _when_ last night?" His words wiped the grin from Helga's face, her eyes going wide; bad time for a slip of the tongue. Scrabbling for an escape, she met Arnold's equally-wide eyes, his expression panicked. They had nothing...

"Oops..."

"Oh, _come on_!" Gerald shot to his feet, wobbled, and fell heavily back on the cot. He didn't try again. Instead, he threw his arms in the air. "What did you do? Wait till I fell asleep then creep off for some kind of 'Tiukwí Club' after hours meeting!?"

Helga's "No!" was perfectly timed with Arnold's "Yes...", her hands raised in defence and his shoulders slumped in resigned embarrassment. They quickly looked to each other in awkward shock. "Yes?" "No?" In unison again, but with the roles reversed. After a beat they both turned back to Gerald, this time speaking as one. "It was an accident!"

Gerald narrowed his eyes at the two of them, both Arnold and Helga looking decidedly sheepish by this point. "Ok. I'm done waiting. Spill." The two blondes shared a nervous glance again, trying to wordlessly decide who would do the spilling. Arnold was probably better equipped to handle this one without reigniting the powder keg Gerald had become thanks to their unpleasant hike. Then again, Helga didn't exactly trust the football-headed boy to not overshare on the more private parts of their evening... She considered just leaving the room, but you can only run so far on a ship afloat; too bad she didn't have Brainy's apparently Olympic swimming skills. Besides, on balance she figured she'd rather be there to handle damage control _her_ way. Finally, she let out a resigned growl.

"Oh, just _tell_ him, Football Head!"

"What, e-everything?" Arnold seemed taken aback, blushing; since when was Helga ok with sharing anything personal?

His shocked look took her aback. Was he ashamed of her? No – she fought off the old voices – he was just being Arnold; he wouldn't reveal anything _she_ was uncomfortable with until he knew she was ready. And boy, was she NOT ready! The second someone outside the 'Tiukwí Club' (the name had already stuck – she didn't bother trying to fight it) knew about her and Arnold, and their supposed 'connection', this would all become hopelessly, intractably real. Real, and firmly out of her hands. Plus, she'd never admit it out loud, but she figured Gerald was sharp enough to figure out that she and Arnold were... _something_... if he heard enough about their little talk the previous night. Helga wondered what would be worse; Gerald knowing that the two of them were allegedly super-spirits, or Gerald knowing that she and Arnold 'didn't hate' each other. Ok, so he said himself that he figured out the second one already, the Helga side anyway, but last night seriously changed things on _that_ score! On one hand, he'd been WAY too eager to jump on the whole 'superhero' idea when Tiukwí first approached them, and the last thing she needed was their local legend keeper running around trying to score them a comic book deal. On the other hand, she _really_ hated that smug grin... In the end, though, it was her own words echoing through her mind that resigned her: ' _fair's fair_ '. Gerald was right; he'd fought the same fight, slogged through the same rainforest, dangled from the same ex-bridge. And until now, he hadn't asked for a thing in return. ' _Ugh..._ '

"Um, you know, tell him everything that you're... _comfortable_ telling him." And done, reigns handed over; it was all in Arnold's hands now. "But hey, if I think you're telling it wrong or getting something twisted, the codeword to stop will be 'my hand covering your dumb mouth', got it?" She inwardly sighed. ' _Aaand we're back to insults – way to go, Helga..._ '.

Her words made Arnold blush even deeper, something that didn't escape Gerald's notice. The boy raised a worried eyebrow. He hadn't seen Arnold turn _that_ shade since the Ruth days, when the poor kid was pining over a girl he didn't even know. Someone he wound up idolising for no better reason than a pretty face (and dazzling braces). Heck, with Lila he'd been too busy tripping over himself to make her 'like him' like him to even spare the time for longing glances; the girl wound up being more of a _project_ than a crush by the end! But Arnold _did_ know Helga, as well as anyone aside from Phoebe 'knew' Helga anyway, and he was turning that same shade for _her_? For an _insult_ no less? He gave a small gulp; he was starting to suspect that spiritual journeys into ancient caverns wouldn't be the weirdest part of this little chat.

"Whatever you say, Helga..." Arnold took a deep breath. He was slightly behind; the rest of the room was already holding theirs. "Ok Gerald, first of all, Helga and I _did_ wind up talking with each other last night... for a while." There was the classic neck rub, and this was just the first sentence. Since when had talking to his best friend gotten so challenging? At least Gerald was sitting quietly and patiently, apparently ready to listen rather than rant. "It really _was_ kind of an accident. Neither of us could sleep, I wanted to look at the stars for a while, and Helga-" He paused, suddenly tilting his head in thought before turning to the girl in question. She had been focussing on being as invisible as possible while this went on, so the sudden attention caught her off guard. "Actually Helga, why _were_ you out of bed?" The girl stammered for a moment.

"Uh, like you said – stars. Stay focussed Football Head!" Her diversion apparently worked, and Arnold only gave her an uncertain look before continuing.

"Ok... Well anyway, we didn't plan it, so I'm sorry if you feel left out. We just talked about some of the stuff that happened that night. And, uh, some other stuff too." Gerald rolled his eyes as Arnold trailed off. Fortunately neither noticed Helga's small flinch at Arnold's last comment. She was starting to feel like she was tied to a train track, and the train was coming fast.

"Fine. It was a big, happy coincidence. I get it. How about we cycle back the 'other stuff' later, whatever that means? For now, just tell me what went down in that creepy cave, 'cause I was about two seconds away from calling 'stranger danger' when the old guy took you down there without us! I'm guessing it had something to do with why I had to listen to the Green Eyes chanting _both_ your names the whole time you were gone?"

"Yeah, it did." Arnold gave a small nod. "He showed us these super old carvings, all glowing like the amulet. They told the story of where the Green Eyes and the Corazón came from."

"I _knew_ it! They're aliens aren't they?!"

"What? _No_! They believe that the Corazón is the heart of the goddess that made them. They think she created the land and brought balance to nature, so the Corazón is tied to the balance of nature too." Arnold did his best to explain; he was nowhere near the storyteller Tiukwí was, so he hoped the abridged version would do.

"Oh..." Gerald looked a little put out. "Well that's still pretty awesome, I guess. But what does that have to do with them worshipping _you_?"

"Um, you know the story Tiukwí mentioned, about how I was born here during a volcanic eruption?" It was a dumb question; Gerald made a point of _never_ forgetting a good tale.

"Why, _yes_ Arnold. Tiukwí aside, I _vaguely_ remember you blowing my mind with that one after you found your dad's journal a few months back." Gerald gave Arnold a flat look. "But I'll admit, it was a little hard to believe before Tiukwí backed it up. And before you ask; yeah – I've known you nearly my whole life, and I totally believe that you stopped that volcano." He took Arnold and Helga's stupefied looks in his stride. "What? Man, you got Stoop Kid off his stoop; apparently the forces of nature bend to your will." Arnold raised an eyebrow at Gerald's logic, but did his best to move on.

"R-right, well what I _didn't_ know before last night was that the Green Eyes think that whole thing happened, that my whole reason for _being_ here, is because of when Lasombra stole the Corazón the first time. They think he brought an 'imbalance' to the world when he took it." He tried to avoid glancing in Helga's direction; he was all too aware of how she looked at Tiukwí when the old guide had called her the same thing. "A really powerful spirit. And I sort of... balanced it out."

For the first time, Gerald seemed intrigued. "You mean the time your mom and dad got it back?" Arnold nodded nervously, he could guess the next question. "I heard your folks mention something an 'imbalance' last night, but what kind of spirit could do that? Some kind of crazy, Fantasia-style volcano demon?" Maybe that was an outlandish guess, and he made it with a chuckle, but Gerald doubted anything would surprise him by this point. But then Helga closed her eyes tightly, cleared her throat and slightly raised her hand. She was as ready to take the bullet as she'd ever be.

"Right here."

She waited patiently while her words sank in, watching Gerald's face blank in shock, his jaw going slack and his chuckle suffering an instant death. It didn't help that another boom of thunder had rattled through the boat just after her big reveal, like something out of a cheesy horror movie... Then she waited a little _less_ patiently while his forehead crinkled in confusion, his brain trying to work out whether he'd heard her correctly. After around twenty second, her patience wore out completely; she figured he was stuck in a loop. She offered a shrug.

"Boo?"

That seemed to snap him out of it a little, and the stunned boy gave a tiny shake of his head. He looked back and forth between Arnold and Helga, his mouth apparently trying to form words but failing every time. Eventually he seemed to give up on that, for the moment, and instead fixed Arnold with a penetrating, almost accusatory gaze. It was the face someone pulls when they want you to know they've seen through your joke; he was clearly waiting for Arnold to step in and refute Helga's bold claim. Too bad for Gerald's mental stability, Arnold could only nod and give a small shrug of his own. It made Gerald's eyes bulge even further.

"Are you guys yankin' my chain?" His first spoken question just caused Helga to give a low growl of frustration. What did he want, a signed and sealed declaration?

"No Gerald, it's true." Arnold slumped onto another nearby cot; he was having flashbacks of the mental and emotional upheaval Tiukwí had dragged them through the previous night, which really didn't help his sea-legs. At least the bed was more comfortable to collapse against than the walls of the strange cave. "Or at least it's true as far as the Green Eyes are concerned. I know it sounds crazy-"

"It sounds _beyond_ crazy, Arnold!" Gerald cut him off, his voice rising an octave or so. "You're telling me that, what, you only _exist_ because of _Helga_? And you actually _believe_ that?"

"I never said that!" Arnold quickly raised his hands in defence. "That's just what Tiukwí thinks happened!" Gerald studied his best friend's face for a few moments, as if waiting for something more, before drawing back a little, his own expression growing even more concerned.

"But you don't _not_ believe it... Do you?" His voice had grown quiet again, and was filled with disbelief. Gerald turned to Helga, giving her the same piercing look for a second or two. She did her best not to meet his eye. "And you Pataki? You're usually the first one to stomp all over this kind of thing!" He wasn't lying, as far as he knew; whether it be haunted trains or wheezing, ghostly mobsters, Helga was usually their group's voice of stubborn denial. Then again, Gerald wasn't to know about the nightly prayers and spells chanted in the secrecy of her closet shrine, or her brief encounter with love potions. Really, Helga wasn't opposed to the supernatural – she just preferred to believe in the supernatural that could work in her favour.

" _What?_ " The girl shot him a challenging look, before turning and staring very deliberately out of the window, quietly stammering something about the 'job' coming with 'good perks'.

"Mmhm..." Gerald didn't look impressed with her answer (or lack thereof).

"I don't get it. You knew what Tiukwí thought _I_ was, and you say you believe the volcano story, but you're getting upset about this? Why did you _think_ the Green Eyes started worshipping Helga too?" Arnold was looking at his best friend with worry. Gerald had been right there when all the Tiukwí weirdness started. He seemed even more willing to believe the old man than Arnold was in the beginning! It was confusing.

"I don't know, I just figured he was a little crazy! Or maybe that his 'aura vision' thing was broken after being asleep for so long. I mean, it's _Helga_! No offence." He quickly apologised under the weight of a fresh glare. And I'm not _upset_ , I just... It's a heck of a lot to take in!"

"Tell me about it..." Arnold and Helga murmured at the same time. It didn't help. Gerald should have counted his blessings; at least he didn't have to take these bombshells in a dark, mysterious cave.

Gerald sighed and shook his head as he pieced together what he'd been told, counting the steps on his fingers. "So... Assuming Tiukwí isn't just a confused old man, let me get this straight. Lasombra steals the Corazón before any of us are even born. This throws nature out of whack, which _somehow_ leads to the birth of none other than Helga G. Pataki. And, what, you were too much for the universe to handle, so a _volcano_ erupted, and Arnold showed up to balance out the math?"

"In a nutshell..." Helga muttered once again, still watching the churning waves. Hearing Gerald summarise it out loud like that somehow made it sound even more ridiculous, but every time she started to weigh her odds at swimming out of there another flash of lightning would remind her how utterly stuck she was.

"Wow. That's gotta be the craziest thing I've ever heard, and I've read Curly's manifesto..." Gerald had a newfound appreciation for why Arnold and Helga had looked so shaken after their trip below ground. He suspected he was now wearing the exact same expression; a careful blend of exhaustion, disbelief, panic, and just a _hint_ of discomfort that parts of it made sense. If ever someone was the polar opposite of the 'spirit of harmony' Arnold Shortman... Then Gerald remembered what opposites do, and he became all the more worried for his best friend. It really didn't help that every lurching vibration of the boat was travelling straight to the pit of his stomach. He looked at the two of them, and chose his next words carefully, his mouth a little dry. "So, assuming all this is true, what does that make you to each other?"

Now _there_ was a loaded question, the one both blondes had been awkwardly dreading as it sped in their direction. Helga, in particular, swore her heart was trying to break free of her ribs. No matter how many times she repeated in her head that she had agreed to this ( _twice_ , in fact), the battle to suppress her fight-or-flight instincts was nearly overwhelming. Arnold needed to rip off the band-aid – since she was otherwise occupied fighting an all-out mental war – and he needed to do it quickly. And as for Arnold, he had thought telling Gerald all this would feel easier, but somehow the fact that it _was_ Gerald made it so much more difficult. He _cared_ about what Gerald thought; that was the whole reason he'd kept his thoughts about Helga secret since FTi, even from him. He loved Helga, and he wasn't ashamed of that, but if _Gerald_ were to laugh in his face and call him crazy... That would hurt. It didn't help that he could almost _feel_ the anxiety radiating off Helga like heat from a bonfire. He took in one final deep breath, trying to draw in as many reassuring thoughts with it as he could.

"Assuming all this is true, and according to Tiukwí," Arnold started tactfully, "Helga and I are sort of... connected. He said we're two parts of the same equation."

Gerald nodded, but apparently wasn't satisfied. "Ok. That would make sense I guess, _assuming_ all this is true. But connected how? Is this like a matter-antimatter thing? 'Cause the two of you exploding every time you're around each other I could _definitely_ believe." It was actually a hopeful question. An offer of escape, really. Arnold and Helga being mortal enemies? That made sense. That sat well with everything Gerald had come to know while growing up with the two of them. Everything he'd come to accept as universal fact over the first ten years of his life. Sure, maybe he'd seen a couple of things that suggested there might be more going with Helga than he'd previously thought. You know, small things like the odd stolen glance, an airy sigh or two, a video library, a heart-shaped locket. Oh, and a full-on, hand-in-hand, foot popping _kiss_! But he was Gerald, not Arnold. Arnold couldn't let stuff go. He was a busybody, for better or worse. Arnold would probably pick away at the issue until it all came loose and caused all kinds of drama. _Gerald_ was more than happy to just sweep things tidily under the rug. Lots of things can fit under the rug, nice and quiet where they can't bother anybody or cause monumental changes to people's way of life. Heck, most of those 'little hints' were under there already! It made life easier. But this whole conversation was making the stuff under the rug start to squirm and wriggle it's way towards the edges...

"Well... Not. Really." Arnold nervously drummed his fingers on his lap, and Gerald's stomach sank. "Assuming all this is _true_ -"

"Oh, _CRIMENY_!" Helga, who had been gritting her teeth as tightly as she could without needing dental work, wheeled round in exasperation. "I'm _assuming_ you knuckleheads are giving me a _migraine_!" Both boys recoiled at the outburst, their hearts pounding; before that second part they thought she'd seen that the boat was about to crash or something! "Look, the old man thinks me and Football Head are literally made for each other. Ok? A perfect balance, a dream team, peas in a freaking pod. And if you so much as _giggle_ about it I'll remove every strand of that _stupid_ hair with my bare hands! _Capiche?_ " The girl paused, breathing heavily. Actually, she was a little surprised she wasn't breathing fire... A little extreme, maybe, but Gerald and Arnold's 'assuming's had quickly started to approach 'ever so' levels of irritation. Mix that with the ridiculous stress she'd already been feeling and, well, kaboom... For their part, the two boys looked suitably terrified, exchanging a wide-eyed glance.

"You know those moments when someone yells at you, and it's really, really, serious, but for some reason you can't help but want to laugh?" Arnold was the first to speak.

"Yeah." Gerald gave a numb nod.

"You need this to _not_ be one of those moments, Gerald." Arnold's words earned another nod, and a small gulp.

"I'm good." They turned their heads back to Helga, who was now reclining against the window. Her rage had been tucked away like a concealed weapon, but her raised brow made it clear that she was waiting for Gerald's _carefully_ chosen response. The boy tried to subtly scooch further towards the opposite wall before continuing. "So, you and Arnold. Made for each other. Ok. Nothing funny about that." Helga gave a single slow, firm nod. Actually, the reveal was a pretty huge relief for him; that _had_ to explain the blush. Imagine; you give a girl a kiss, then two minutes later you get told you're basically stuck together? He'd feel pretty awkward too! It sure made Tiukwí's story a whole lot harder to believe though.

"Oh, and I should probably mention, speak a word of it to anybody outside this room and the same consequences apply." Helga's words made Gerald's face fall again. Somehow that had been even worse. No rage, no heat. Not even a threat! Just cold, dark fact...

"Understood. Uh, am I allowed to _ask_ about it?" Helga shrugged at his new question, her face having returned to an unsettling nonchalance. He wasn't to know that it was carefully crafted Pataki-brand nonchalance. In truth, Helga's mind was still spinning. She hadn't meant to snap like that. Really, she'd done her best to let Arnold handle this in his tried and tested Football Head way. But it was out there now, with absolutely zero softening of the blow. Band-aid well and truly ripped. She figured a good dose of fear could keep Gerald in line for a little while, but she needed to gauge his real reaction to this whole thing before she could come down from Red Alert.

"Go crazy. Cat's out of the bag now, I guess."

"Assu-" Gerald quickly caught himself, " _IF_ this is real, what does it mean for you guys? Like, what can you do?"

"Tiukwí said even _he_ didn't really know what we're capable of." Arnold tagged back in, to Helga's relief. Maybe he was building up an immunity to her anger. "Just that our 'spirits were powerful'. It's not like we have superpowers or anything; we're just... us. He did say we're drawn to each other, like literally, but I don't know about that." That was a lie, or at least a half-lie. Somehow, in Arnold's mind, the memories of their 'accidentally' finding each other all the time had become one of the main pieces of evidence in favour of the Exciting Option. "Oh, and he said that we're, uh, 'stronger' together."

"Well I _guess_ that kind of makes sense." Gerald was actually nodding now; maybe the shock was finally wearing off. "I mean, you two _have_ pulled off some pretty cool stuff when you actually manage to work together. And what are you gonna do about it? Are you gonna test it?"

Helga's eyes widened. "Whoa! _Test_ it? You sound like you really _do_ believe this crap! Heh..." She trailed off, hoping she'd managed to conceal just how much _she_ wanted to believe it.

Arnold seemed just as sceptical. "To be honest Gerald, the whole idea kind of freaked us out, so we figured we'd just... not think about it for now."

Once again, Gerald looked stupefied. "Really? You guys find out you might be superhuman and you just want to _ignore_ it? Where's the fun in that?! If someone told me what Tiukwí told you, I'd be trying to move metal with my mind by now!" Apparently their words had dragged him seriously off-topic.

"Oh, good grief..." Helga started to softly hit her head against the wall.

"I'm pretty sure we can't do stuff like that, Gerald." Arnold tried to persevere in his usual diplomatic way. "Even Tiukwí said we're only human. And besides, don't you see how any of this being real has some pretty big implications for Helga and me?"

"Oh?" Gerald's eyes widened again. " _Oh_! Right, the whole 'made for each other' thing. Yeah, alright; I can see that being kind of a big deal. _Especially_ for you two. Who'd have thought, huh?" Helga shot him a warning look; that sounded dangerously close to a joke. And she'd thought it since the day they'd met, thank you very much; it wasn't _her_ fault that she'd spent every day of their lives fighting to pretend otherwise! She blamed society.

"But it can't be _that_ bad, right? I mean you two were looking pretty 'comfortable' with each other last night." And just like that, Gerald had opened the door to the 'other stuff'. It was inevitable, but neither Arnold nor Helga had to like it. They exchanged yet another worried glance.

"Uh, what do you _think_ last night was about?" Arnold tried to ease into this as gently as possible, while Helga finally sat down on the last free cot and started rapidly fretting at the hem of her vest. She was looking very pale, something Gerald quickly noticed when he looked carefully in her direction.

"Am I allowed to answer that?" Earlier threats and mortal terror aside, the question was more about being kind. Gerald didn't know exactly what was really going on in the twisted mind of Helga Pataki, and he didn't really want to. And ok, she still wasn't the easiest person to be around, but he was wise enough to know that this had to be a sensitive, even _dangerous_ subject for her, and he wasn't cruel. To his mixed relief and concern, Helga simply gave a small, mute nod; the girl looked like the seasickness had suddenly hit her with both barrels. "Well, without getting into specifics, it seems pretty obvious that Helga's got some... feelings going on there." He could have _sworn_ he heard the girl release an extremely tiny, un-Helga-ish squeak on hearing that, but he pressed on. "And Arnold, you had to have have worked that out too, right? I figure you must have been seriously grateful for everything Helga's pulled off for you over the last while, so... Well hey, you didn't exactly look like you were hating that kiss, man!" Arnold's blush came back in full force at that, and Gerald's face brightened a little. "So maybe in time you two really _could_ get to like each other. Make this whole weird business easier. Stranger things have happened, right?" Oh, how right he was. Gerald actually felt pretty proud of himself; usually he left the wild optimism to Arnold. But after that blush he saw earlier, maybe it wasn't such a crazy idea. Of course he figured it would probably take years, if not decades, to get used to the idea of Arnold 'like' liking someone like Helga, but you never know. Weird, considering not long ago he would have expected severe retribution from Helga at even suggesting such a thing, and that he had _years_ of memories that told him Arnold would never be interested in _her_. But then he saw their faces, and his small grin started to fade. He might have expected scepticism, or even disgust if Helga was going to keep up the act for whatever reason, but this was more like they were... bracing themselves? The storm outside suddenly seemed a little louder.

Arnold couldn't quite remember if his mouth had ever felt so dry, and his heart was pounding. ' _Ok Helga, I get it. This is hard._ '

"We're... a little past that point Gerald." He forced out every word, and watched a small frown form on his best friend's face. The other boy tried his best to rally.

"Ok... Ok, cool. So you already like each other." Arnold's hand went to his neck again; not a good sign.

"K-keep going."

There was a whole new knot growing in Gerald's stomach. "You 'like her' like her?" That was a stretch, blush or not. Gratitude was one thing, but _really_?

Arnold looked towards Helga, desperately seeking some kind of assistance, but the girl seemed to have shut down. Arnold closed his eyes, one hand moving to rub his temple, the other clenching tightly in his lap. "Little further, Gerald."

Now the other boy looked like he'd been slapped. "You _REALLY_ li-"

" _GERALD._ " Arnold cut him off once again, and sighed, before mumbling something Gerald couldn't quite hear.

"What was that?"

Arnold gritted his teeth and spoke a little louder, but the sound still couldn't quite reach Gerald's ears.

"Dude, what are you saying?" In truth the boy had an inkling, but he didn't quite want to believe it.

"I love her, Gerald."

There it was. Barely loud enough to hear, but hear it Gerald did, without a doubt. Arnold braced himself, ready for his best friend to shout, protest, laugh, joke, or maybe even scream. In that moment, neither of them took much notice of Helga as she released another small sound (this one more like a soft squeal) and collapsed fully on the small bed. What Arnold _hadn't_ expected was for Gerald's face to become completely... neutral. He'd seen Helga get overloaded before, but Gerald? Usually he took everything in his stride.

"Uhh... Are you ok?"

"Are you sure about that?" Arnold was both relieved to hear his friend speak and startled by the bluntness of the question.

"Y-yeah. I'm sure."

"You're not just saying that because of this trip? Or 'cause of what happened last night?" Arnold was starting to feel a little interrogated, but he complied.

"Actually, it's a little in _spite_ of last night. That stuff was pretty overwhelming."

Gerald finally moved more than just his mouth, giving an almost-imperceptible nod. "Ok." He turned to look at Helga, who had started to sit up and was ready to blame her little swoon on water turbulence. "Arnold, would you mind if I talked with Helga alone for a minute?"

Arnold was taken aback. "What? Why?" Helga was frowning too, her and Gerald's eyes locked.

"Indulge me." Arnold frowned, but suddenly Helga spoke up too.

"It's fine with me. Your folks are probably missing you already, Football Head."

Arnold looked back and forth between the two. He really wasn't sure about this; it looked like lasers should have been shooting from both their eyes.

"O...kay. If you're both sure. I'll be with my mom and dad if you... need me for anything." Seeing his best friend and... girlfriend?... both give small nods. He stood and quietly went to leave the room. Looking back before the door closed, the two seemed frozen.

"You... sure you don't have anything else to say about what I just told you?" Considering Gerald had felt hard done by for being out of the loop, he had given Arnold surprisingly few follow-up questions.

"Ohh, I've got questions. But they can wait, and this won't take long, trust me. Please?" With a final frown, Arnold relented and left the room. Whatever was going on, it gave him a seriously bad feeling.

After the door clicked shut, Gerald and Helga remained motionless for a while longer, both mentally counting to be sure Arnold was out of earshot, and both waiting for the other to make the first move. Plus, Gerald was still fighting to put the frantic thoughts in his head in a usable order.

"So, what's all this about Tall Ha-" Helga began in her usual fashion.

" _Don't_ even start that Pataki." Helga blinked at Gerald's tone, her casual insult dying in her throat. Gerald was usually the laid-back one; where was _this_ coming from? "Now, you're gonna clarify some things for me, ok?"

Helga tightly crossed her arms and legs, a defiant pout in place, but relented all the same. All of her 'run away' instincts were on fire, but Gerald was looking like he'd chase her down. She had partially expected this, just not quite so abruptly. "Fine. Shoot."

"Good." Gerald relaxed, but only very little. "Now I've said it before; I think I've been pretty polite about a lot of stuff with you recently. But this changes things. Arnold doesn't usually lie, and I've never heard him use that word for anyone except his grandparents. And now his mom and dad I guess... I've _especially_ never heard him say it about a girl, and that boy's gone through more crushes than anyone our age has earthly reason to. We're in uncharted territory here." In a different conversation, that might have been a joke. It wasn't. "So now I'm gonna have to be direct about this. Since this whole San Lorenzo business started, I've seen some pretty intense stuff from you. You made it a mission to get him here, and you traipsed through the jungle same as me. Difference is, _I'm_ his best friend, and you've been acting like you hated his guts since Pre-K. I've seen that you carry around a locket with his picture in it. But weirdest of all, I've seen your video collection. Actually, it's more of a _library,_ isn't it? You had footage of the guy's _bedroom_ , Pataki; not ok." Helga flinched; of all the clips for Gerald to see...

"Look, I can explain that." She offered, but Gerald waved a hand.

"I don't even wanna know. Bottom line is, you're pretty obsessed with him, aren't you?" Finally; it had only taken eight years for someone besides Phoebe to get the picture. And Lila, sort of. And Dr Bliss, but she was paid to do that kind of thing...

Helga scowled. In all the times she'd imagined her finally confessing her true feelings to Arnold, somehow she'd never planned out this part of the process. Even in her wildest dreams, she never got that far. "Why is that anyone's business but mine?" No use denying it, but she was hardly ready to sing out her secrets to the world.

"Because apparently my best friend's letting the girl who spent years hurting him into a position where she could _really_ hurt him. I didn't really think too much about it till now, but Arnold's been acting funny about you all year. You've pulled your usual stunts, and Arnold would barely say a single word against you, even after hardcore stuff like April Fools Day. _I_ wasn't that generous. And he didn't say a _thing_ to me about whatever went down at FTi, but I'm guessing it was big. For him to keep something a secret for that long from _me_ , I know it must have been important to him. Which means that, somehow, _you're_ important to him." Much as Helga was hating this sudden inquisition, that idea planted a grin that she couldn't quite contain, and Gerald most certainly noticed. In any case, it answered his earlier question.

"Mmm, mmm, mmm..." He shook his head, this was going to take a _long_ time to sink in. For now though, he was on a mission. "Look, I don't know if we're really 'friends' or not. But after everything we've been through here, I'm trusting that you're gonna be honest. Is all of this some big, elaborate Pataki prank?"

Helga's shoulders slumped. Seriously? You pretend to be blinded _one_ time and suddenly people think your capable of anything. She hoped her reaction made her position clear, but apparently Gerald was going to need clear, verbal confirmation. It was impressive really; apparently she didn't scare him when it really counted.

"Sheesh, what do you want from me? Fine." She raised her right hand. "I, Helga G. Pataki, swear that I'm not pulling any prank, trick or cruel joke on Arnold. And... you're right, ok? I'll say it! I-" she gritted her teeth again; this was like the final yards of an exhausting marathon, and every single one of them was uphill. "I. Love. Him. Too. I'm crazy about him. Always have been. He knows that now, and I'm _deliriously_ happy about it, and I'm gonna do my level best not to screw it up. There! Is that good enough for you, or do you want my social security number and blood type too?"

Gerald let out a long sigh, looking almost forlorn. To quote Simmons, this had _not_ been on the agenda. He really didn't understand this, _at all_ , but... "Do you promise you won't hurt him?"

Seeing his concern, Helga was genuinely touched. She got it; seeing Arnold hurt crushed her too. It brought out a shred of vulnerability. Just a shred. "I promise I won't hurt him on purpose?"

Gerald thought about this for a few long moments, apparently weighing her offer against everything he knew about Helga G. Pataki, including everything he'd learned in the last few days and minutes. He made his decision. "Ok then. We're good." In the most shocking move yet, Gerald offered a hand. Helga quirked her brow, looking at it as though it might explode.

"Seriously? That's it? You're not gonna ask why I've tormented him all these years?"

"Wasn't planning on it. Not my business. But if you're really that into him then you should probably quit that." He gave the hand a small wiggle; his arm was getting tired. Finally, with something approaching a smirk, Helga took it in her own, and both of them released quiet exhales as they shook.

"So. Love, huh?" Gerald finally seemed to un-tense as their hands finally parted, and sure enough, yep, there was that smug grin. ' _Crap..._ ' "You two _are_ aware that you're not teenagers yet, right?"

"Its... a long story." Helga rolled her eyes; the story of her _life_. Gerald's grin only widened.

"Tell me about it sometime. I like stories."

* * *

 **A/N Welcome to the 'Tiukwí Club', Gerald.**


	10. Chapter 10 - What Happened?

**A/N So, to all you awesome people out there who've left a review, not just for the last chapter but at ANY point during this story, I need to give you a big thank you. And this isn't just one of my _ordinary_ 'big thank you's! This is a thank you for making it a very real possibility that this story might make it to 100 reviews in 10 chapters! I never imagined I'd be lucky enough to get such an amazing response, and I can't tell you how happy it makes me that you've all enjoyed the fic. So, to that end, if there are just _nine_ of you out there who feel like dropping a quick review for Chapter 10, I'll be eternally grateful :D, and as always, I hope all of you enjoy!**

 **A mild warning here; this chapter involves a small injury. Nothing remotely major, but watch out if you're particularly squeamish!**

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 10 - What Happened?**

' _Ok. So Gerald wanted to talk to Helga alone. It's probably fine! He didn't look angry or upset. Or happy, or confused, or... anything at ALL, actually... Kind of weird, but not the worst reaction, I guess. Plus, they've been alone in there for a whole thirty seconds now and there hasn't been any shouts or screaming! I'm sure they're just sitting and having a mature conversation about all this. A nice, calm talk. Between Gerald... and Helga. Yeah..._ '

If you were to ask anyone who knew Arnold to describe him, one of the first things to pass their lips would be some comment about how Arnold was always looking on the bright side. Heck, he was _Mister_ Brightside; Arnold the eternal optimist, king of the 'could be worse', able to find the silver lining around each and every horrendous cloud in a tropical typhoon. And they would be right! Arnold _was_ an optimist and always had been. What most of them would get _wrong_ , though, would be to assume that it was always easy. Nothing could be further from the truth! Even an Arnold-Class optimist can find themselves fighting a pitched battle against the nagging doubts and worries that swarm around every difficult situation. They can be tough opponents, always relentless and constantly trying to attack you from a different angle, testing your walls for weaknesses until they find a crack to whisper through. Some even grow big and strong enough to smash through the walls entirely. Arnold had been fighting battles like that for a long time, and he was very, _very_ good at it. But even _he_ wasn't invincible. And that was why he'd been lingering around halfway towards the stairs. Not _eavesdropping_ of course – absolutely not – but he figured it would be a pretty good idea to take his time, just in case he was needed. Somehow, when he left, the atmosphere in the room had felt... dangerous.

But, to his surprise, he couldn't hear a thing. This either meant the conversation really _was_ going smoothly, which would be great, or that Gerald had suffered a swift and quiet death, in which case Helga probably needed some privacy to hide the body. He figured the second option was a lot less likely – optimist through and through. In any case he finally relented and headed in the direction of the bridge. The more his anxiety drained away, the more it found it strange that his parents weren't already relaxing in one of the other cabins. There was a reason he'd been watching them like a hawk during the final strenuous leg of their hike; the pair had seemed ready to pass out! He shivered as a string of unlikely scenarios ran through his mind; his parents being thrown overboard by a sudden change in current, or being struck by one of the bright bolts of lightning that had been striking the jungle around them, or maybe deciding that, on second thought, the Green Eyes could probably use their help for a while longer, and the stone slabs weren't _that_ uncomfortable. Apparently getting his parents back alive had given those nagging worries a _lot_ of fresh ammunition to work with... It came as no small relief when he heard their voices drifting down from above, seeming quiet and distant over the pounding rain.

"...can't honestly think it's _true_?" Arnold paused at the bottom of the stairs, his mother's voice finally becoming clear. For some reason, her words froze him on the spot.

"I'm not saying that, Honey." Miles' voice sounded tired, and more than a little worried. "But you heard what Tiukwí said." Arnold's eyes widened. He had a pretty good idea what this conversation was about; by this point 'Tiukwí' had become a code word for 'brace yourself'. He really didn't want to eavesdrop, but somehow his legs were betraying him.

"Maybe we mistranslated..?" Stella sounded like she couldn't even convince _herself_ with that attempt.

"You _know_ we didn't. Besides, you saw their faces when they came out of there. I'm pretty sure what _they_ think is what's important now." As Miles finished, the boat gave a large, sudden lurch. As Arnold steadied himself, clinging tightly to the nearby railing, the voices above were replaced by a series of startling thuds and crashes, a brief cry of surprise, and eventually the slow, rattling clang of something metal as it came to a gradual stop on the floor. "Ow..."

His paralysis ended by the shock, Arnold bolted up the stairs. "Mom?! Dad?!" He paused for a moment, scanning the scene; apparently it sounded worse than it actually was, though that probably depended on your position. Miles sat rubbing his head, seemingly entangled in a collection of fishing equipment, and a set of newly-broken shelves stood nearby, their contents scattered around the floor. Stella stood at his side, her hands on her hips and her face despairing, while Eduardo sat reclining at the controls. Neither seemed to be particularly surprised. On hearing his worried outburst, Arnold's parents turned to him, each quickly assuming an anxious smile; they had no idea how much their son had heard. He raised an eyebrow at the scene. "Are you guys ok?"

"Never better!" Miles' response was automatic, and he grunted as he fought to free himself from his new prison. The net was proving problematic – it was good at its job.

"We're fine, Sweetie. This kind of thing happens to your dad a lot. It's sort of how we met!" Stella brightly responded, folding her arms as she watched her husband's fruitless struggle for a few moments longer. Eventually though, he met her eyes and his shoulders slumped.

"Help me..." With a small, teasing grin, Stella knelt and went to work, her deft hands untangling and picking apart the net with surgical precision until Miles was finally free. Rising to his feet, he put a grateful arm around her shoulders and offered Arnold his cheesiest grin.

"See? Nothing broken! But... yeah." His grin faltered, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced woefully at the demolished furniture. "Guess it was too much to hope these little 'incidents' would stop after being asleep for so long... Your old man's always been a little accident-prone. I'll, uh, pay for that." His last words were for Eduardo, who simply nodded, focussing on the river ahead.

"I'll remember."

Miles' eyes narrowed for a moment. "...You still have the list, don't you?"

"Yes." Another nod, and Eduardo's lips seemed to twitch towards a smile.

"You realise I could have been dead this whole time?" Miles looked at his friend with disbelief.

Eduardo gave a small shrug. "You don't throw away a winning lottery ticket. One day I might have niños, and that list is going to put them through college." Miles shot a dry look in his friend's direction, then towards Stella, who was doing her best to conceal a giggle behind her hand. Arnold, though, had watched the whole exchange with a growing sense of warmth; every word and moment worked towards transforming his parents from faces in a picture, and characters in a series of bedtime stories, into real people. People who could actually _exist_ in his life. People who could laugh and love, fall and... bleed. Oh...

"Uh... Dad?" Arnold gestured towards a spot on his father's free arm. A spot currently hosting a fish hook. Following his son's gaze, he turned to look, his face quickly falling once more.

"Aw, nuts..." Miles hung his head, his shoulders once again slumping in defeat. Hooray for the numbing powers of adrenaline..! For him, every moment with Arnold still had something of a 'first impression' feel to it, and he never seemed to do well at those, despite his best efforts. He dutifully held the arm out for Stella, who promptly began inspecting the small wound with a scolding tut. Miles eventually met his son's eye again, and tried a far smaller grin than the last one, now afraid to push his luck. "Sorry. I'm used to it?" Arnold could only tilt his head and blink with a small frown.

"I have a friend you should meet..." The boy gave his head a small shake. "Uh, are you _still_ ok?"

"He will be." Stella answered for him, her examination complete. "Eduardo, where's the first aid kit?"

"There is one in the first cabin downstairs, and one in the galley, above the stove." On hearing this, Stella bit her lip, her eyes darting briefly to her husband, then to her son. To Arnold's delight, he and she shared their first 'look' of instant, wordless understanding and agreement. The fact that it was over one of his dad's goofy mishaps made it all the sweeter.

"Cabin." Both spoke at the same moment with a resolute nod. Arnold stepped aside as Stella led Miles below, hearing her give small orders along the lines of 'keep it elevated', and offered Eduardo a small wave before quickly moving to follow. Once they were gone, the man at the helm finally let out a chuckle, shaking his head; he wouldn't have given up that list if you'd paid him.

Once below, they made quick work of locating the first aid kit, Arnold electing to sit on a cot and look determinedly away as his mother went to work, fiddling nervously with his hands. He tried to ignore Miles' occasional, low hiss of pain, choosing instead to focus on the positive; there _still_ weren't any shouts coming from the other room. How was _that_ conversation going?

"All done!" Stella spoke with a fresh smile, the offending hook being dropped into a nearby ashtray with a gentle 'clink'. Miles' small wound had been cleanly dressed and, from the smell of it, liberally disinfected, much to Arnold's relief. He kind of hoped his dad didn't make this stuff _too_ much of a habit; he wasn't squeamish, but he didn't want to spend all his time worrying that Miles had had all of his shots...

"Well, before all _that_ happened, I was coming to check up on you guys. You seemed pretty tired during the walk – don't you want to rest for a bit? You can even take a nap if you want, I won't mind." Arnold didn't miss the looks that crossed his parents' faces when he made that suggestion; they glanced in the direction of the cots as if they were torture devices.

"I think we'll pass on that for now." Miles quickly recovered his smile, as Stella nodded rapidly in agreement.

"This has all been so exciting, I'm pretty sure we've got enough adrenaline to keep us going all the way back to Hillwood!" For a second, her eyes betrayed how badly she wanted that to be true. "And besides, we've been in such a rush to get out of here that we've barely been able to talk to you, Arnold. Can we talk now?" She clasped her hands, her eyes subtly pleading and eager. The request had somehow made her nervous, as if Arnold would ever refuse! He'd been waiting for this his whole life! All the same...

"Of course! I... I want to talk to you about _everything_. I guess I just don't know where to start." Arnold rubbed his neck, avoiding their eyes; he had a million questions, big and small, but it never occurred to him to put them in order. His mother nodded, then knelt down to hesitantly put a hand over his. He closed his eyes briefly at the warm touch, feeling the weight on the bed shift as Miles moved to sit beside him, the man's own large hand moving to Arnold's thin shoulder. In that moment, Arnold felt more like a child than he had in years.

"That's understandable." Stella nodded, giving her son a sad smile. "We've missed a lot, and we've got a lot of questions to answer, I'm sure. But you know, sometimes big talks can be just like a river themselves." The boat gave a small jolt then, as if to emphasise her point. "Too much in there at once can block it up completely, like a dam. But if you take a piece out, then more and more can flow through until the dam is gone all together. And that first piece can be as big or as little as you want." Arnold thought about her words, feeling her thumb gently moving back and forth across the back of his hand. Her touch was soft, but on her skin he could feel the roughness of old callouses. Almost unconsciously he began to visualise the barrage of questions as the building blocks of a mighty dam, just as she had described. Some were small pebbles; what's your favourite book, do you like jazz, was Grandma always crazy? And some were terrific boulders; did you think about me, why didn't you stay, and of course...

"What happened?" The question was short, and asked in something barely above a whisper, but it was a monumental giant of a boulder all the same. Heck, it would have made a decent dam all on it's own! And while it might have been vague, its meaning couldn't have been clearer. He wanted to know them, like any child should, but the need to know the answer to that one, single question overshadowed anything else that passed through his mind, as if every other answer that followed would be coloured by their response now. He knew why they left, and now he knew why they never came back, but what happened in between? He looked up at them, back and forth between the two, watching as they exchanged the saddest look he had seen from either since their family had been reunited. They had known this was coming, and was surely coming soon, but nothing could have prepared them. Neither seemed to know how to respond, at first. "Please. What happened?" Arnold finally repeated, working hard to keep his tone level.

"...It was _my_ fault." Stella looked away, her voice uncharacteristically meek and her hand gently trembling over Arnold's.

"Stella, that's not-" Miles immediately began to protest. Arnold wasn't to know, but they'd had this conversation before, around nine years ago.

" _Yes_ , Miles." Her tone quickly took on a sharp edge. " _I_ was the one making the cure. _I_ was the one who got impatient. It was _my_ fault."

"We _both_ agreed it was the best option for everyone, and we both wanted to get home to our son." Miles kept his tone soft and reassuring – a lot like Arnold's, in fact – his hand moving from Arnold's shoulder to join theirs on the pile, Stella's trembling subsiding under its touch.

"I don't understand." Arnold was quickly starting to regret asking the question so soon; in all the times he had dreamt of his parents, of reuniting with them, the idea of upsetting them hadn't occurred to him once. Sharp guilt was already starting to grow and coil in his chest. ' _Why couldn't I wait to ask them that? They're tired, and we're not even home yet! Why couldn't I have kept my big mouth shut..?_ ' He took a breath, trying to quieten the thoughts. "You don't have to tell me yet, if you don't want to. I shouldn't have asked so soon! I'm sorry..."

"Arnold, no!" Once again, Miles was quick to the defence, his free hand clasping his son's shoulder anew. "You _deserve_ to know, _especially_ after all this. Just please believe us when we say, _all_ your mom and I wanted was to come home like we promised." He looked to his wife, hoping for input, but Stella had seemingly lost the ability to talk. Instead, she gave a small nod of agreement, her eyes filling with tears that she desperately tried not to shed in front of her son. Miles sighed deeply before continuing, while Arnold waited in nervous anticipation.

"We'd made the serum before. We knew what we needed, we knew how to make it, and that's why we thought it wouldn't take long. But when we got here, we realised the new outbreak was... a _lot_ worse than the first one. The Green Eyes were so desperate that they finally let us in, and we saw for ourselves that the quantity we'd made before wouldn't even be close to enough. It took _weeks_ flying from country to country before we'd gathered enough of each ingredient. I think the red moss might even be extinct now..." He gave a sad shake of his head, quickly becoming lost in the memory. They had spent days in Panama, digging to the root of every tree. And as for the Bolivian boars, well... They did what they had to do. To him, of course, it all seemed so recent and fresh. Nine years snatched away in an heartbeat.

"But then it _still_ wouldn't have been enough to cure everybody. And it had already cost so much time, both for us _and_ for the Green Eyes. When we came back to the city and saw the aromatics machine in use for the first time, we had the idea-"

" _I_ had the idea," Stella finally found her voice, cutting over, "to modify the cure to be dispersed by the machine."

"And I _agreed_." Miles insisted again, refusing to let his wife burden herself with all of the blame. She shot him another despairing look before finally meeting Arnold's eyes.

"It would have been much quicker to distribute, and it let us stretch what we had to treat the whole population. I knew it could be done, but there were risks. It would take more time initially, and it would mean staying in the Green Eyes' city, so there was a big chance of exposure. But I thought... I thought that even _if_ we caught the sickness, then we were close enough to making the cure that it would treat us too, before we fell asleep. And it was working! I swear Arnold, we were _so_ close! It took another month, maybe a little longer, but the cure was ready. It would only have needed another day or two, but then... Then..." She trailed off, once more looking to Miles, silently willing him to continue.

"But then what?" Arnold had been enthralled; he was so desperate to know. He could feel their frustration, even their anger at having been so close. If the cure was made, and the machine was ready, what could have stopped them?

"But then the king fell asleep." Miles' words made Arnold's jaw drop in confusion, his brow furrowing. Sure, the king was obviously important, but how could that have made such a huge difference? When Miles turned to look at him again, he could see the hurt and regret in his father's eyes. "We were so busy working on the science that we didn't consider the Green Eyes' _traditions_. The medicine was ready and waiting, just like you found it, but we'd made a cure that needed the machine, and the machine needed-"

"The Corazón..?" This time Arnold interrupted, the pieces falling into place in his mind. "The machine wouldn't work without the Corazón." Or at least something almost identical, and every bit as pure. Golden hearts weren't usually so abundant in the jungle. His father gave a solemn nod.

"And only gods or royalty may touch the Corazón." Arnold blinked, his mind struggling to process what he'd just heard. All that loss, all that _time_ , because the Green Eyes _refused_ to use the key?

"But what about the princess? What about Tiukwí?" The boy grasped for an explanation, but Miles shook his head.

"Tiukwí had fallen asleep too by then, not that he could have done it anyway. And the princess was only a baby herself. Without her mother and father, I'm not sure she even knew _how_ to open the idol once she was old enough to understand."

"I can't believe it..." Arnold wasn't used to feeling bitterness or resentment, but he felt both prickling at him now. His usual good nature battled to reassert itself, telling him all the right things; even _he_ only managed to open the idol because of the Green Eyes' symbol, and the symbol only glowed for him. Well, him and Helga. The idol _killed_ Lasombra with poison when the pirate had tried; any one of the Green-Eyed children that made an attempt might have suffered the same gruesome fate. Besides, their beliefs were their beliefs, and after his recent experiences he was in no position to condemn them as false. All of this was true, but it _hurt_. "And by the time you realised you couldn't use the cure..."

"We were both already sick." Stella nodded, as if reading his mind. "We were too weak to travel for more ingredients. We couldn't even get word to Eduardo. The only thing we could do during those last few days was try to teach the older children how to look after the sleepers a little better, keep more people alive until someone came along. The Green Eyes always believed it would be you. And then... we fell asleep too." She desperately hoped Arnold wouldn't press them for more information about those final, terrible hours. She remembered them vividly enough already; the inevitability of it, and the pain.

Stella had fallen asleep first, in Miles' arms.

"That's unbelievable." Arnold spoke after a long pause, using his free hand to wipe away the moisture that had begun filling his eyes. "To think everything could have been different..." In an instant, a whole alternate life seemed to flash through his mind. A childhood spent with his parents, lost for the sake of a day.

"We're _so_ sorry, Arnold." Stella finally moved in, freeing her hand if only to wrap both arms around Arnold's body. Her fight to keep the tears back had been lost.

"We are, Arnold. More sorry than you could ever know." Miles moved in too, the family joining in yet another group hug. This one, though, was tainted with sadness. "I know you must be angry. You have every right to be. But I _promise_ you, for the rest of our lives we're going to try and make it up to you." There was a long pause then, as Arnold's mind churned.

"I'm not angry."

Even Arnold was surprised by his own eventual words, but somehow it was true. It was as though every act of forgiveness is his life, every instance of turning the other cheek and letting something go, had been in preparation for this. His greatest test, his hardest battle. His parents pulled back to look at him in disbelief.

"I mean, _part_ of me is angry. Angry at the Green Eyes, or just angry at how unfair it is that it had to happen this way. Maybe I'll be more angry later. But it's not like we can change it now. And mostly... I get it. I think maybe I'd have done the same thing if I thought I could help people." He shook his head, as if trying to chase the bad thoughts away. "I made mistakes on this trip too. I put all my friends in danger without meaning to, all 'cause I wanted to find you so badly. I guess the only difference is that I was lucky, and you guys... you guys weren't."

Arnold was so caught up in his speech – a speech he was using to reassure himself as much as them – that he didn't even notice the looks of awe he was receiving from both of his parents, their mouths agape. Immense pride and sadness, almost in equal measure. Whatever relief they felt on hearing his words was hampered by the fact that it seemed _wrong_. Shouldn't a ten year-old be reacting to this kind of news with fury? Bitterness? If nothing else, the very _last_ words from their mouth should be 'I'd have done the same thing'! Was it their absence from his life that forced their baby to become so mature so quickly? Or had Tiukwí's bizarre claims about their boy been true? He finally looked up into their faces, and against all odds he wore a small smile – a smile half of Hillwood knew all too well by this point.

"I think the important thing is that we can all go home together now." On hearing this, Miles and Stella found it in themselves to return his grin; it was infectious, after all.

"Wow. Who taught you to be so grown-up, son?" Miles finally asked, scratching his head. His voice was incredulous. "'Cause I find it hard to believe it was your grandparents. I _have_ met them, after all."

Arnold gave his best 'I don't know' shrug. "I've never thought about it too much. Grandpa always just tells me to 'follow my instincts'. Uh, my good ones at least."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Oh geez, Pop used to give _me_ the same line. You should have seen his face when I said my 'instincts' were telling me to move to the jungle. His eyes went so wide I thought they'd fly right out of his head! Changed his tune when I introduced your mom, though." Arnold chuckled at that, for a moment, until the idea of eyes in general set off a strange train of thought.

"Hang on a second." The boy frowned. "So to work the machine, the king had to use the Corazón. Like how me and Helga used her locket?"

Miles frowned too, wondering where this was heading. "Yeah, that's right."

"But it's too sacred to _look_ at? How did _that_ work?" Arnold's mind was filled with comical images of the Green-Eyed king in all his regalia, blindly fumbling to place the heart in its setting, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Oh, good grief..." Stella despairingly hid her face in her hands, while Miles simply began to laugh.

"Well, it's a whole ceremony." His grin broadened. "Complete with ceremonial blindfolds."

Arnold let that sink in for a few moments, before his chuckling inevitably resumed. And just like his grin, the laughter quickly swept Miles and Stella along with it, bringing tears of an entirely different kind to their eyes. The past would cling to them if they let it, weighing them down and holding them back with anchors of regret. But a _dedicated_ optimist knows that the past isn't something you can change, no matter how badly you wish you could. More than knowing it, they _accept_ it. Instead, you can take solace in the fact that the past gets further away with every breath, and that every new present is an opportunity to begin again, and to start making things better. Arnold was an optimist, and always had been. Just like his parents. Together they sat, hand-on-hand, letting the trauma of the first answer drain away. There were other big questions that he needed to ask, and more than a few that they needed to ask him, some of the stones being almost as huge and intimidating as the one they had just pushed aside as a family. But shifting boulders is exhausting work, and the river had started to flow. The three could sit back for now, and let some of the pebbles be washed away. One way or another, the dam would be broken down eventually, and they had all the time in the world.

"So..." Arnold caught his breath. "Do either of you like jazz?"


	11. Chapter 11 - Awkward Escapology

**A/N We did it! Over 100 reviews in 10 chapters - thank you _so much_ to everyone who helped make that happen (particularly to Call Me Nettie, who took the liberty of reviewing twice since the last update XD). I hope you all enjoy the next ten chapters just as much - I'll do my best to make sure of it!**

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 11 - Awkward Escapology**

Escaping awkward situations is probably one of life's most important skills. There are lots of ways to do it, depending on the circumstances. Sometimes you can nudge the conversation into an area that's less inclined to make your skin crawl. Sometimes you can make a _perfectly_ reasonable excuse as to why you need to jump out the nearest window immediately (and yes, you _know_ you're three storeys up, thank you...). When all else fails, as Helga once demonstrated, you can even back away _very_ slowly and carefully, praying with all your might that no-one decides ask _why_ you just erupted from their bedroom wall in a dust-covered Campfire Lass uniform.

If anyone had experience in awkward escapology, it was Helga G. Pataki.

It came down to luck, or a ridiculous lack of it. When the universe continuously _insists_ on dropping not-so-subtle hints of your 'deepest, darkest secret' straight into the lap of the _object_ of said secret, it tends to encourage a proactive approach. The trick was to get on top of the situation _before_ things got awkward. Horribly, mind-breakingly, 'I need to move to a new state now' awkward... Misplaced lockets and the recordings of drug-induced confessions needed to be recovered upon pain of death, before the contents could be revealed. Troublesome parrots (and presumably any other members of the animal kingdom that are capable of reciting poetry) needed to be silenced on pain of _their_ death before they could say their piece. And pork rinds just needed to be avoided at all costs – it was better to starve with dignity. Of course, if the old man was right about her and Arnold, that suggested that all these little accidents weren't so much 'bad luck' as they were the universe conspiring against Helga's wishes – something that had admittedly crossed her mind in the past. Granted, she always assumed in those moments that the universe just held some kind of unfair grudge against her, as opposed to the idea that the universe was actively trying to shove her and Arnold together. If _that_ was the case, Helga figured she and universe should probably take a moment at some point to reassess their relationship. But right then, this was all beside the point. The point was that Helga had suddenly found herself in an entirely _new_ kind of awkward situation; one which she never even considered would arise someday.

Being alone in a small room with Gerald.

As a rule, the two avoided situations like this at all costs. Really, it was a mutually-beneficial arrangement; dialogue between them tended to devolve into a battle of insults, sarcasm and threats (the latter being Helga's contribution), and frankly that could get exhausting after a while. Beyond that, neither of them felt particularly rich in common ground with the other, and neither especially enjoyed the other's company. And yet here they suddenly found themselves, sitting in the small cabin of a swaying, rocking boat, basking in the unsettling aftermath of what was probably their first ever mature one-to-one conversation.

"So..."

"So..."

Each sat opposite from the other, their legs tightly crossed, fingers agitatedly tapping on their knees as they both mentally scrambled for an escape. Sending Arnold away had seemed like a good idea at the time... By this point Helga would settle for the boat hitting an extremely unlikely iceberg; anything to just make this moment end! Normally she would just deflect Gerald's presence with a few demeaning comments. But, well... he really _had_ been a sport about the whole 'her being completely, desperately in love with Arnold' thing. Oh, and all the Tiukwí lunacy of course, but somehow, super-spirits and mysticism aside, that first point still seemed to be the 'biggie' when all was said and done. He'd wanted a little reassurance that his best friend wasn't being set up for a heart-stomping, sure, but beyond that, he hadn't laughed or ridiculed. He hadn't protested or questioned Arnold's sanity. He hadn't even bugged her with too many uncomfortable follow-up questions – talk about a bonus! In light of all that, it really wouldn't kill her to be a _little_ nice to the guy for a change. Now if she could only work out how... Then it hit her; maybe it was _sort_ of a retaliation (she was _way_ more comfortable with those), but at least it more-or-less fit the bill of a normal conversation.

"So, you pretty much have the full picture of _my_ twisted romantic life by this point. How about returning the favour – what's the deal with you and Pheebs?" She shot him a nonchalant look, raising part of her brow, and did her level best not to smirk when Gerald nearly lost his balance. Needless to say, his blush was pretty intense, though he quickly assumed his best 'cool' expression, complete with an attempt at a suave grin.

"O-oh, well, y'know. Apparently she thinks I'm 'handsome', so clearly the lady's got good taste."

"Uh-huh..." Helga wasn't impressed. "And?"

"And what?" His confused response made her shoulders slump. This might have been a miscalculation – she figured the whole 'handsome / kiss on the cheek' routine back at the camp might have clued him in by now, but apparently that was giving the boy too much credit. Now she was stuck having _this_ conversation with the knucklehead.

" _And_ , what are you planning to do about it? Crimeny, the two of you have been holding hands and making sickening, lovey-dovey eyes at each other since the start of fourth grade! Are you finally gonna ask her to 'go steady', or whatever it is you think girls want to hear?" Helga joked, air-quotes included, but she had a sneaking suspicion that that was _exactly_ the kind of 'charming' line Phoebe wanted to hear. She'd probably find it cute...

Gerald's expression became shocked. As much as Helga never thought she'd be the one having this talk with him, he _sure_ as heck never thought he'd be hearing this from _her_. All the same, he did his best to recover – he was starting to worry that Helga was messing with him, and that this whole line of conversation was leading to some sort of punchline. Or just a straight up punch. "W-well, I thought I might ask her to join me for a movie... Wait, where is this even going?" He raised an eyebrow. "This is payback for the whole 'you and Arnold' thing, right? What, are you gonna read me the riot act? Give me some big, bad ultimatum about just how many different ways you'll kick my butt if I hurt your girl?" He folded his arms, throwing Helga a challenging look. That look failed pretty quickly when she _finally_ caved in and began to chuckle.

"Heheh, seriously?" She gave him an almost pitying look. "Uh, quick question Geraldo; how much do you _know_ about Phoebe?"

Gerald blinked, caught of guard. "Oh, well... she's totally smart, obviously. Like, _scary_ smart, but in a cool way. And, y'know, she's sweet, and cute. She's been tight with you since Pre-K, so she's clearly pretty loyal, and _seriously_ patient – no offence!" He quickly raised his hands, but Helga was willing to let that one slide. Gerald thought for a few moments longer. "She plays the cello, and her favourite colour's blue, obviously. Why?"

Helga had been nodding along to this, her sniggering under control for now, and she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Not bad Geraldo, all valid points." Suddenly she was smirking again. "But _I_ know that Phoebe's dad's been teaching her to sword fight since she was five."

"Really?" Gerald's eyes widened.

"Ohh, yeah." Helga grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "She's good too. Takes it _real_ seriously, works on it three nights a week. Actually, her folks finally got her her very own sword for her tenth birthday, and man, I gotta tell ya, that baby is _sharp_!"

"You don't say." Gerald's voice had gone up an octave or so.

"Yup. I've seen her practice with it – she works on her thrust by seeing how many grapefruit she can skewer in ten seconds." Ok, _that_ was a lie – Phoebe was _extremely_ strict about not treating her sword like a toy, just as her father had made her promise and no matter how much Helga begged – but boy, it was _fun_ to watch Gerald squirm!

"Oh..."

"Her record is seven." Helga relished hammering in the final nail, watching Gerald deflate just a little further. She suspected she'd made her point. After pausing for a moment, with a mock-thoughtful look, she snapped her fingers. "But hey, you were right – it totally has a blue handle!" She shrugged. "Meh, good enough for me – you two have my blessing. Oh, but since you _did_ bring it up and all; rest assured that I'll bring a swift and brutal end to whatever parts of you Pheebs leaves alive if you cross her." She finished with her most terrifying smile.

"Ok." Gerald finally responded in an oddly small voice. "Uh... If you'll excuse me, I think I need to use the restroom." The two glanced towards the nearby door, 'nearby' meaning a scant few feet. They exchanged an apprehensive look. "I need to use a _different_ restroom." Without another word, Gerald darted from the cabin as though his life depended on it, the pitching of the boat apparently less of an issue than he'd found it earlier. Maybe the situation was just more urgent.

Finally alone, for the first time in a while, Helga was able to take a moment to lie back and breathe. Reclining with her hands behind her head, she was actually quite proud of herself. ' _I'd say that went pretty well! See, Helga ol' girl? You can be nice – piece of cake! Ok, so maybe that was half-nice and half-threatening. Fine, MAYBE 70-30. But you didn't insult the moron once! Technically... Hey, maybe spending these last few days with Arnold is rubbing off on me._ ' Speaking of Arnold, she figured that by now he must be deep into the long-awaited catchup with his parents. Talk about polar opposites; she could barely stand to brief Bob and Miriam on what happened during her day, assuming they were even pretending to listen, and there was Arnold, probably sitting down and eager to give Miles and Stella his entire life story. The thought interrupted her newfound calm – she didn't particularly like to think of just how much of Arnold's 'life story' was about him being tormented by none other than Helga G. Pataki. After all, even disregarding all the Tiukwí stuff, his folks _had_ walked in on them sharing that first, wonderful kiss; how long could it _seriously_ be before that came up in conversation? And once the kiss came up, then Helga would come up. And then they would be treated to a recap of a lifetime of spitballs, shoving, tripping, pranking, head-based insults, and other assorted petty tortures. A part of her mind knew, of course, that Arnold would probably be a little more tactful about the subject than that, but the wicked voices that made a hobby of plaguing her thoughts were getting tired of being ignored. Thinking about her previous treatment of Arnold gave them a fresh burst of strength. ' _I can practically hear him now – "Oh, but none of the bullying matters because she KISSED me afterwards." Yeah, 'cause THAT'S going to fly well with a ticked-off parent. I've basically been their son's worst nightmare the entire time they've been gone! They'll probably wind up hating me, or thinking that I'm just going to hurt him. Heck, even if they don't hate me, they'll probably hear all that stuff and realise what a basket case I really am! What if they don't want me anywhere near him?_ ' Closing her eyes tightly against the terrible thoughts, she sat up and drew her locket from its hidden pouch. Opening them once more to stare deeply into the shredded picture, she reverently traced a finger down the side of the golden heart.

"Ohh, my sweet beloved, would fate really be so cruel? To finally bring you to me, as I've dreamt for so many years, only to have you snatched away so quickly by the very people whose salvation drew us together?" She stared piteously into the eyes of the photo, searching for some reassurance. It brought to mind everything that she and the locket had been through in the last few days. With an easy twist of the clasp, the heart swung open to reveal the message inside; ' _Arnold my soul, you are always in my heart. Love, Helga G. Pataki_ '. Unlike the photograph, the words were pristine.

"My soul... Could our spirits _truly_ be bonded, as the wise old guide told us? For my _locket_ to be the thing that returned your parents to you – the hidden, secret heart that I've held so close for so many years – dare I hope that the universe really _is_ on our side? If _you_ can finally see that my heart is pure, my love, maybe your parents will see it too." She suddenly had a flash of realisation. "Well, at this point it's not like they know any different..." It was true. Sure, they'd probably got the message that she was no Miss Mary Sunshine by this point, but as far as the years of picking on Arnold went, they were completely clueless! All they knew was that she was the nice girl who helped save both their lives. And kissed their son. And _might_ be his soulmate. Ok, so that last one probably made things a little weird for everyone, depending on what the old man had told them, but come on – there had to be worse first impressions! All she had to do now was not screw it up for the rest of their natural lives! And then there was Arnold, and whatever _he_ let slip about their 'relationship' to date.

 _That_ could be an issue.

The problem was that Arnold could barely lie to save his life – she adored his openness and honesty, make no mistake, but that didn't make it practical – and this trip alone had shown that omitting the truth seemed to give the kid just as bad of a stomachache... Considering he was getting to know his parents for the first time, Helga figured it was pretty unlikely that he'd want to start off by keeping secrets. No, much as she hated to admit it, Arnold probably couldn't be trusted on this one. And coming to that realisation immediately ignited an old, well-honed urge – the urge to eavesdrop. After all, if she couldn't control the conversation then she could at least be prepared to handle the fallout. And that meant knowing exactly which of her numerous atrocities Arnold was about to reveal. Or _could_ be revealing at that very moment! The thought spurred her into nervous action, and she quickly rose to leave the room.

The key to successful sneaking is observation. It's a little like crossing the street: look, look, then look again (for Brainy). Helga knew this all too well; she'd had years of practice after all. Admittedly, she still tended to forget that important aspect when overtaken by a soliloquy, but those could be very distracting! Right then, though, she was focused; Gerald could have run (or fled) in any direction. The corridor, though, seemed clear when she poked her head out. Finding Arnold wouldn't be an issue; the boat only had so many rooms. The problem would be staying hidden once she found him! The place had a pretty unfortunate lack of Helga-sized trashcans... But at least the sounds of her quiet footsteps and soft breaths were buried beneath the metallic pattering of the rain. It wasn't a stretch to think that Arnold had set off towards the bridge, and she headed in that direction, before her movements were quickly halted by the sound of a familiar laugh. Her heart immediately began to follow its usual response of fluttering at the sound, before she ordered it to pipe down – this wasn't the time. And talk about an easy tracking mission; the football head had only been two doors away... Hearing three voices, only slightly muffled by the thin, metal walls, she came to the door of another cabin. She was exposed, and that was a _lot_ more risky than she normally liked during these exercises, but needs must, and the hallway was still clear. And so, ear against the cold steel, she began to listen.

While all this had been going on, Stella had been proven absolutely right; once the first stone was removed, the dam had well and truly crumbled. The hardest part of any scary or overwhelming situation is taking that first nervous step. Of course, as with a bungee jump or a skydive, you can find it pretty impossible to stop once you get going! That was where the Shortmans found themselves now, the conversation flowing freely and merrily. In fact, the whole thing had unconsciously turned into a sort of contest – a pitched, to-and-fro battle to see who could eagerly take in the most information about their opponent, or opponents. Arnold had the advantage, in a way; while Miles and Stella had slept, he'd had an entire childhood to drawn up a long list of things about them that he'd always wanted to know. Too bad he never thought to actually write it down... Regardless, he was more than able to hold his own, even if it _was_ two against one, and the last while had seen Miles and Stella responding to a barrage of questions from their son. In spite of the volume of things to learn, Arnold wasn't worried; somehow it was as though an entire portion of his brain had been set aside waiting for this, ready to safely and securely tuck away everything there was to know about his parents.

"So Dad, you really went to P.S.118 too?" Like Helga and Gerald, Arnold sat with his legs crossed. But while they had practically been statues of discomfort, Arnold radiated keenness. It was as though he was poised to grab at every response before it could get away.

"Ha, yeah, about a thousand years ago!" Miles leaned back as he thought back to the old halls, rubbing his long chin in a way that reminded Arnold all too well of his grandpa. "I can't even imagine how much the place must have changed since then. I remember we had this really strange teacher back in sixth grade. Every time he had us busy working on a project, he'd start playing with these little animal figurines he kept in his desk drawer. Weird." He shook his head for a moment, perplexed even after all this time, before releasing a short burst of laughter. "I think I traumatised the poor guy once by putting my pet snake Larry in there for him to find!" Hearing this, two jaws hung open; one inside the room and one just outside the door. Stunned, the few moments it took Arnold to comprehend this revelation finally gave Stella the chance she'd been looking for to interject.

"And what's school like for you, Honey? Do you have a lot of friends?" She almost cringed at her own question. It just sounded so _cliché_! The kind of thing you'd hear from a distant great aunt, who wasn't _entirely_ sure which niece or nephew she was actually talking to, but who had in fact seen you around six months earlier and who had asked the exact same thing then. It was something that, Stella knew in her heart, she _should_ have been making it her business to know on a daily basis since Arnold's first trip to preschool. But that couldn't be helped now, and there was hardly any way around it; 'do you have a lot of friends' was the biggest and best stepping stone to the specifics. And there were a _lot_ of specifics. Arnold may have been wondering what kind of people his parents were his whole life, but Stella had been wondering who their son would grow up to be since before he was born, and she had a list of her own. It was a relief to see he had a friend as close and loyal as Gerald – and of course Helga, but that was an entirely different and decidedly scary topic for _any_ parent, years-long absences and mystical old guides or not – but were there others? Was he the kind of sociable boy who knew everyone, or was he more of an isolated type? Were they nice people? What did they do together? Was he sporty and outdoorsy, or did he prefer to stay inside? Was he getting enough fresh air? Wait, were any of the other kids _mean_ to him?! Ooh, if some punk was picking on her Arnold, so help her she'd... It took all of a second for Stella's frantically spiralling thoughts to demand a deep, cleansing breath. One thing at a time.

And of course, not far away, a blonde girl gave a small cringe; this was apparently heading straight towards the area she'd been most afraid of. What spectacular timing...

Arnold's smile in response eased Stella's nerves, but could do little for Helga. The door didn't have a keyhole... "Well, Gerald's been my best friend since Pre-K, but our whole class hangs out together most of the time. You'll meet most of them when we get back to Puerto Clara – they're all pretty special in one way or another."

With that, Arnold proceeded to give his parents a rundown of the weird and wonderful members of the 'Simmons Tribe'. Helga listened on, occasionally giving a silent nod of approval, and sometimes quirking a sceptical brow if she thought the boy was being a _little_ too kind. Cases in point; he managed to describe Eugene without dropping in the word 'jinx' even once – she suspected the poor sap would still be channelling Violet Beauregarde when they got back – and he somehow talked about Harold fondly, without using terms like 'obnoxious', 'annoying', 'immature', or 'Pink Boy'. She heard a few confused giggles from the parents while he explained that, yes, Stinky _was_ his friend's real name, and some worried gulps when he spoke of his previous work as Curly's personal negotiator. He even remembered Brainy ("really quiet, but you can always count on him"). What was _very_ interesting, though, was that good old _Li_ -la was somehow left out. Now why could that have been? The logical part of Helga's brain figured it was because of the 'oh-so sweet' redhead's absence from the trip. The pessimistic part suggested that the girl might have belonged in a league of her own... Fortunately, the _optimistic_ part of her brain, which had been seeing an unprecedented surge of activity in the last 24 hours, simply ordered her to grin and run with it.

"And what about Helga? Have you guys been, uh, _friends_ for long?"

Miles' question sent two women's minds into a state of panic. Helga's mind simply stalled, the grin instantly wiped and her knees beginning to tremble. Stella, on the other hand, honestly could have just punched him in that moment – right on his hook wound. Trust her husband to blunder smack dab into the middle of a difficult situation. And he'd gone and dragged herself and Arnold along with him... Clearly, if he was feeling the same sense of trepidation around the whole _subject_ of Helga that Stella was feeling, then he had a pretty odd way of showing it! Oh, and of course he had to say the word 'friends' like that; he might as well have thrown up some air-quotes, just in case Arnold didn't _quite_ get the real meaning. And why not wiggle his eyebrows while he was at it? Granted, they were both about nine years behind the times on what it would take to be a 'cool' parent to a preteen boy, but she was pretty darn certain it wasn't _that_. As it was, all the woman could do was release a tiny sigh, and clench her hands as subtly as possible. It was out there now. After all, it wasn't as if she didn't _want_ to know. Had things been different, it probably would have been pretty wonderful to have their son sit with them, and shyly tell them about his first little crush (or at least, she assumed it was the first – he was only ten after all). It was actually a relief to think that they hadn't missed such an important and delicate time in Arnold's life! But this was hardly a normal situation. ' _Common sense might have told you to let Arnold get a little more comfortable with us before bringing up such a sensitive topic, MILES!_ ' And then there was the... other stuff. She had never complained when Tiukwí spoke at such lengths about their son being a 'god' to his people. Whether it was true or not, she couldn't help but feel oddly proud! Beyond that, she'd chalked the legend up as something she would think about more once the crisis was averted. Although it _had_ been fun to watch the Green-Eyed children scrambling to add blue 'hats' to their Arnold headdresses, once she and Miles had given them an update. But what little Tiukwí had said once he saw Helga was... a _lot_ to take. Needless to say, it complicated things.

Arnold's eyes had, quite understandably, gone decidedly wide, and a pink tinge had rushed to his cheeks. He probably should have seen this coming, but the conversation had been so much fun! He'd been blindsided. "Oh! W-well, I've known Helga since preschool too. So, a l-long time, I guess." Apparently Arnold's reaction was enough for Miles to get the message. When Arnold looked away, his face filled with embarrassment, the man took the opportunity to give his wife the most apologetic look he could muster. She wasn't happy – as it turned out, the Shortman men's resistance to death-glares might have been genetic.

"It's nice that you have someone... _special_ in your life, Arnold." Stella tucked her anger away as she turned back to her son, eager to recover the situation. She placed what she hoped was a comforting hand on his cheek, and found that it was hot from the blush. Maybe she couldn't put the cat back in the bag, but she could at least try to make sure the cat wasn't too angry about the whole thing. "For her to go through all of this with you, the two of you must have been close for a long time. You must mean a lot to her."

While Stella's words might have been reassuring to Arnold, each of them was like an electric shock straight to Helga's heart. She was practically hyperventilating, chewing on her nails with a fervour. Surely this was it – the big reveal. '" _Well, actually Mom, we were only 'close' in the sense that I was her favourite victim. I GUESS that means I was special to her... I mean, who else would she push around, throw paint on, or cover in feathers in front of the whole class, day after day? Honestly, I'd have to say that nobody's ever made me MORE miserable than Helga G. Pataki! By the way, can she come round for dinner next week?"_ '

"Yeah." Arnold's single word made Helga's breath catch, freezing her on the spot. "I mean... I wouldn't like to speak for Helga when she isn't here, but... she _is_ special. She's always been really special. _She_ means a lot to _me_."

Helga's one hand, the one whose nails she'd been frantically chewing, quickly covered her mouth, barely containing yet another lilting sigh of adoration. The other instantly clutched at her locket through her vest. She wanted to pass out in a full-on swoon, but a cold metal floor was hardly the best place. ' _I mean a LOT to him! He thinks I'm SPECIAL! And he said all that to his PARENTS! Oh, my sweet beloved, does your capacity for compassion and forgiveness truly know no bounds? For you to say such beautiful things, despite my myriad crimes of awful, undeserved cruelty? What have I done to deserve the affection of such a saint? What have I-_ '

"Helga?"

" _Waahh!_ "

Three pairs of eyes went wide in the small cabin as the door suddenly burst open, a girl tumbling into the room to land flat on her face. Behind her, in the doorway, stood a deeply perplexed Gerald. What followed were several seconds of shocked silence, Helga's eyes slowly rising to meet the others' stupefied stares, the rosy tinge still visible on Arnold's face. This time, backing away slowly just wasn't going to cut it. In an instant, the girl was on her feet and sprinting away, shoving Gerald aside as she bolted. She _might_ have heard someone shout out her name in her wake, but the only sounds to reach her were the pattering of rain and the heavy thumping of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Helga didn't stop or slow down, but her body seemed to be following an automatic instinct. She needed _air_. And so she pelted up and out, ignoring Eduardo's surprised jump as she shot from below deck. She was lucky, not that she felt it in that moment; the storm was a ghost of what it had been, most of its anger spent. What had been an ocean of rain not long ago was now something only a few shades heavier than a drizzle, and both the white flashes and thunderous rumbles had continued their journey into the distance. Helga barely noticed; being struck by lightning didn't seem like such a bad thing just then. She had been careless, caught up in her own thoughts, and who knew what Arnold's parents thought of her now? Who knew what _Arnold_ thought of her now? Probably that she was some kind of nosy little creep, spying on one of their family's first private moments in nearly a decade... Every one of the cruel voices in her brain was screaming ' _basket case_ ', and each of them had the voice of a Shortman.

Rapidly running out of boat to flee across, Helga found her eyes drawn to the looming crow's nest above. She let out a depressed, frustrated sigh; it seemed appropriate. Swiftly climbing to top of the swaying structure, she finally came to a standstill, grasping the safety rail so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and inhaling vast lungfuls of air. She allowed the memories of her last visit to a crow's nest to flow through her mind; her desperate and devastated, Arnold terrified and running away. They seemed to fit the mood. She released the railing with one hand to clasp her locket tightly, as if afraid that she would cast it overboard to complete the flashback.

" _What the heck is WRONG WITH ME?!_ " She screamed at no-one in particular. Perhaps at the river, or the jungle itself. She barely even cared if anyone else could hear her. What, she couldn't make it _one_ full day before doing something that would probably remind Arnold of just how nuts she was? Before throwing whatever good impression she might have made on his parents straight into a woodchipper? And now, here she was, all alone, pigtails drooping in the rain. If she was crying, the water made it so you couldn't tell.

Actually, at least the rain seemed to have stopped...

"Um, double déjà vu?"

Head spinning in shock, she found Arnold right behind her. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't even heard him approach.

He had an umbrella.

"Can I join you?" When she gave the smallest of nods, Arnold moved a little closer, coming alongside her, keeping the umbrella over her the entire time. He was getting a little soaked himself – the detriments of having a wide head – but he didn't seem to mind. For a while they were both silent, before Arnold finally spoke again. "Are you ok?"

"What do _you_ think, Football Head?" Helga leaned on the cold railing with folded arms, deliberately avoiding his eye. "Guess your parents have a _real_ good idea of the kind of person I am now, huh?" She figured that, if he was even here, they must be holding off on the 'stay away from the loon' orders until they all reached dry land.

"Yeah, I'd say they have a pretty good idea." Arnold nodded. "Because I told them." Helga's head, which had drooped a little lower to begin with, shot back up in response.

"Told them what? That I've made your life heck the whole time we've known each other?"

Arnold tried a small smile. "I get the feeling you know _exactly_ what I told them." It didn't work; Helga's shoulders just slumped even further. He let out a small sigh. "Besides, you know that isn't true. We've had good times too."

"Oh, great. Tell you what, you count the good stuff I've done for you on one hand, and I'll go find an abacus to work out the rest. Should only take a few days. Face it Arnold; I've always been a jerk to you, and if you tell your parents otherwise then you're lying."

Her words left Arnold in a sad silence for a few moments, until he glanced at the umbrella above them. "Not _always_." He waited for Helga to respond, but she just kept staring off into space, looking more and more dejected. "Do you remember the first day we met? It's ok if you don't. I mean, it _was_ a pretty long time ago." That got a reaction, even if it was just an eye roll. Maybe the tiniest ghost of a smirk? Yes, she _vaguely_ remembered that day.

"The first day at Urban Tots. I've thought about it a lot this last year." Arnold pressed on, knowing she was listening. "I was _really_ nervous that morning. I'm pretty sure I'd been excited to meet other kids, but I was scared that nobody would like me. And then the weather turned out so gross that morning... It sort of got me down. But then, just when were driving past the school, I saw you!" Helga finally turned to look at him, but Arnold was apparently lost in the memory.

"I just remember that you were really... _pink_. Like this little bright spot in the middle of all the rain." He let out a chuckle. "Grandpa told me I shouted at him to stop the car, but he might have been making that up." His free hand went to rub the back of his neck. "I also remember thinking that I really liked your bow, 'cause it was pink like your pants. Sorry if that sounds silly..." His cheeks flushed once more. He'd been so caught up in the story that he hadn't noticed Helga's jaw drop, or seen her eyes go wide.

"It was only after I got out of the car that I saw how sad you looked. But after I said hi, you seemed a lot happier. It made me feel really good too." He finally turned back to her – she had just enough time to hide her shocked expression. "I guess things changed with us after that. I still don't exactly understand why... But I _do_ know that you were nice before you were ever mean. The first thing you ever did for me was cheer me up, just by being you! And you know, they say first impressions are usually pretty accurate." He finished with a grin. He'd hoped to snap Helga out of her low mood, even if it was just to chastise him for being a sap, but he _hadn't_ expected Helga to simply close her eyes and take a deep breath. Moments later, she reapplied her grip on the railing – maybe not so tightly as to hurt, as it almost had before, but still tightly enough that her fist was slightly shaking. He didn't understand, a frown starting to form.

"Did... Did I upset you? I'm sorry-" He began, before being swiftly stopped in his tracks by a raised hand.

"Don't say another word, Football Head!" Hearing this, Arnold was an instant from asking 'why?' before he caught himself. Instead, he amenably stayed silent while Helga continued to breathe, her eyes still closed. After a short while, whatever she was dealing with seemed to pass, and the girl finally opened her eyes to look into his own. She quickly assumed one of her familiar, cross-armed pouts. But he could see the smile behind her eyes. "Seriously? You ask me not to go overboard with kissing you, and then you pull something like _that_? Geez, play fair Hair Boy!" Finally he won a small smirk, and her words brought a wide, relieved smile to his own face. And an even deeper shade of red to his cheeks...

"Heh, sorry? Does this mean you're feeling better."

' _I'm always better when I'm with you, my love_ ', is what Helga thought. But she made sure to keep the thoughts to herself. Her walls had already taken a serious hit; add in a couple of poetic musings and suddenly you were heading towards an FTi... Instead, she allowed her smile to become wider, and sincere.

"Yeah, I'm ok." Her expression faltered again when she remembered the current situation. "But what about your parents? Are they ticked off with me, or..?"

Arnold shook his head. "I don't think so. A little confused maybe."

"Wow – Helga G. Pataki, confusing? Imagine that!" She immediately scoffed.

Arnold rolled his eyes, but laughed all the same. "Give it time, Helga – they'll get used to you." Before she could react, he had gently gripped her hand. Leaning upwards, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, the tiny contact travelling through her like an electric shock. Coming down, he met her eyes again, green locking on to blue. "Now can we please go back inside? Half my head's getting wet, and it's kind of confusing." Seeing her offer a mute nod – which was about as much as she could manage – he led her back to the ladder, placing the umbrella in her hand before beginning his descent. She looked up at it for a few seconds, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he'd managed to talk her down, and somehow she couldn't do it. Impressive, but it still kind of bugged her.

"Where did you even _find_ this?" She muttered, just before his head disappeared from view.

He paused briefly, grinning brightly. "Oh, you know. I always keep one handy for Helga-related emergencies." For a moment she could only blink, before finally moving to follow.

"... _shut up_ Football Head."

Good thing he couldn't see her grinning too.

 **A/N If you enjoyed the chapter, please take a moment to review - your feedback means a lot!**


	12. Chapter 12 - Bona Fide Parental Kudos

**A/N I don't think I'll ever stop being blown away by the amazing, kind response I've had from you all during this story. Thank you to all my regular reviewers, and thank you to everyone who left feedback for the first time with the last chapter. I've said it before and I'll say it again - you are all awesome!**

 **And as always, hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 12 - Bona Fide Parental Kudos**

On balance, Helga was pretty ready to say that she hated this boat.

Actually, maybe she needed to expand that to a broad statement of hatred towards boats in San Lorenzo as a whole. After all, it wasn't as though her first river trip here had been an emotional picnic either! Make no mistake, Lasombra's boat still held an impressive lead, boasting a devastating rejection, a late night pirate attack (as far as she knew at the time), a fiery explosion and, worst of all, _Olga_. But between needing to endure a heart-to-heart with Gerald and facing the embarrassment of her latest encounter with Arnold's parents, the S.S. Eduardo was _really_ holding its own. And while Arnold's words truly _had_ done wonders to ease her troubled mind over the latter (hence why she was still onboard and not taking her chances with the river), they did nothing at all to fix _that_ uncomfortable situation. The reality was unavoidable; Miles and Stella had caught her snooping, red handed. In different circumstances, or with different people, Helga probably could have come up with any number of lies to hide the real reason for her sudden, explosive entrance to their cabin, ranging from the perfectly plausible ("I was looking for Arnold, and the boat made me lose my balance") to the slightly more far-fetched ("I was conducting a pirate attack preparedness drill – you all failed"). Any excuse could fly, really – you just had to be confident in your delivery.

But this time things were different.

For one thing, in the short time they'd known each other, Helga had started to develop a nasty suspicion that Stella was pretty intuitive. Call it a gut feeling, but something about the woman made Helga think it would be hard to pull the wool over her eyes. Plus, given their eager return to the complex world of parenthood, there was a real possibility that she and Miles would ask _follow-up questions_. Helga hadn't needed to deal with those from Bob or Miriam in, well, _ever_! _A_ nd even Arnold had usually been willing to overlook her occasional slip-ups with little more than a 'whatever you say'. Follow-up questions could be the death of even the most well thought-out ruse...

No... Lying alone just wasn't going to cut it this time. And that meant that there was only one realistic option: make an excuse to run away and avoid them both until they forgot the whole business ever happened. Or until they both passed away after living long, full lives; whichever came first. The challenge was coming up with a suitable reason for _why_ she needed to hide herself away for the foreseeable future. ' _Maybe I could convince everyone that I'm in quarantine for some kind of deadly jungle disease! Nah... Too soon._ ' And then there was Arnold to consider; it wasn't as if _he_ could run away, after all, and she highly doubted he wanted to. Apparently her beloved was willing to conceal her antagonistic history from his parents – that in of itself being an unprecedented act of generosity as far as Helga was concerned – but could she really expect him to continue? Could she truly ask him to take part in yet _another_ lie just for the sake of avoiding her own embarrassment?

Yes. Yes she could.

"Hey... Arnold?" The two had been moments away from reaching the door to the bridge, moving at a pace to escape the persistent rain. Or at least Arnold had been – Helga still had her umbrella, after all, and she was far less eager to return to the 'comfort' of the boat's interior, or to the people that were waiting inside... But now she had come to a standstill. As Arnold paused himself, turning to reply, his eyes became filled with worry once again; he could see Helga's anxiety resurfacing as she glanced away, biting her lip.

"Is something wrong?"

"No! Geez, I'm fine. It's just- Oh, crimeny..." Having finally turned her eyes in his direction, her heart had briefly melted at the pitiable sight. The downpour certainly wasn't what it was that morning, but Arnold was quickly getting drenched nonetheless, his normally spiky hair slicked back and his already marked and tattered shirt clinging to him tightly. And typically, he didn't seem to care one bit; his expression was one of pure concern, all of it aimed in _her_ direction. She instinctively moved closer, grumbling as she awkwardly fought with the umbrella, aiming to cover them both as best she could. It was only afterwards that she realised her actions had left them mere inches apart, and Arnold's worried face was quickly being overtaken by a wide-eyed blush. She cleared her throat, and did her best to keep going before her own cheeks could follow suit. It wasn't easy – that small kiss was still very much in her system.

"I was still just wondering if you could _maybe_ not tell your folks that I, uh... 'overheard' your conversation?" She tried a small grin, hoping her eyes weren't _too_ pleading. After all, she still had her dignity. Sort of...

Arnold tilted his head, an unconvinced frown quickly forming. "Helga, they're pretty smart people. Don't you think they'll have figured out that's what you were doing? Like I said, I really don't think they're mad."

"Ah, but you're not _sure_!" Helga quickly tried to rally, her anxiousness rising. "That's the beauty of _lying_ , Football Head; it takes all that annoying guesswork out of the picture! Why deal with the potential reality that they're both completely aware of what I was doing and ARE mad about it, when instead we can just tell them I got their cabin mixed up with the can and nip it in the bud?"

"Helga..." Arnold shot her a chastising look.

"What, you don't like that one? I've got others-" She desperately pressed on.

" _Helga_." He cut her off, gently grabbing her hand once again. And, like every other time, the simple action seemed to halt her panic in its tracks – she still couldn't work out how. It was... nice. Weird, but nice. Like it just made something that had been tightly clenched inside of her exhale a little. "I won't tell them anything you really don't want me to, ok? Not if you're this worried about it. But you should give them a chance – you know my Mom _did_ already say that she likes you." He recalled, offering her an encouraging smile.

"She did..?" For a moment, Helga couldn't contain a surprised smile, but suddenly it was replaced by a fresh frown. She threw her hands in the air, breaking their contact and dousing both with a fresh splash of water from the flailing umbrella. "Well crimeny, that just makes it worse! Now I _really_ have to make sure I don't mess this up!"

Arnold chuckled, in spite of needing to wipe the fresh rainwater from his eyes. "Wow Helga – you really seem to care a lot about what my parents think of you." He gave her a teasing grin, causing the girl to finally lose her battle to not blush. She glanced away with a pout.

" _Yeah,_ well... I DID save their lives, remember? I just want them to still know how great I am when we make it back so they can tell all those losers from our class!" Seeing Arnold's grin only widen, she rolled her eyes and gave a resolute sigh. She couldn't put this off forever. "Look, we're going to go back inside, then I'm going to make some excuse to go hi- er, _relax_ in one of the cabins, ok? Tell them whatever you want, Football Head – just wait till I'm out of earshot." It seemed like the best compromise; what she didn't know wouldn't kill her, at least for a while.

"Whatever you say, Helga." Arnold's smile took on its comforting edge once again, as he finally moved to open the door.

To Helga's immediate regret, it appeared that the entire group had wound up gathered on the bridge, all of them apparently waiting for Arnold and Helga to return, and each looking more than a little perplexed. Even Eduardo's usual nonchalance was betrayed by a raised eyebrow as he glanced in their direction. The moment was quickly broken, though, as Miles quickly rushed forward.

"Kids, you're both soaked again! Come on, get in here." He ushered them both inside before slamming shut the door, finally cutting off the rain. Glancing at them again, and at the small puddles pooling at the feet of each blonde, he shook his head. "Hang on, I'm gonna get you two some towels." With that, he disappeared below deck. Stella, meanwhile, was apparently overcome by an old instinct – unwilling to wait for Miles' return – and immediately moved to fuss over Arnold. She tutted as she brushed aside the stray strands of wet hair that clung to the boy's forehead, quietly muttering things about him catching a cold. For his part, Arnold seemed frozen, as if unsure of how to react, but a new, sheepish grin was growing on his face all the same.

Glad of the temporary distraction, Helga fought to collapse the stubborn umbrella, her efforts mostly just succeeding in scattering the room with cold droplets, until her eyes locked with Gerald's. Somehow she'd neglected to consider _his_ silence in all this, and the boy had already proven himself to be a blabbermouth where Arnold's parents were concerned. ' _"Then we jumped that huge gap in the freeway..!" Moron..._ ' In a split second, her look became inquisitive, and just a little menacing. Apparently Gerald received the message, his eyes widening, and he rapidly shook his head, subtly raising his hands in defence – a look that quite clearly screamed "I said nothing (so please don't hurt me)". She replied with a single, slow nod; at least that made things simpler.

"Here we go!" Miles quickly reappeared, his arms filled by a large white bundle. Apparently he'd hastily grabbed every towel the nearest cabin had to offer... Without waiting for a response, he dropped most of the pile, moving beside his wife to begin roughly and rapidly towelling off his son's head. Arnold's eyes were now _decidedly_ wide – or at least they appeared to be, when visible past the moving layer of cotton. In truth, he was torn between enjoying the strange warmth of being pampered and cared for by his parents, and escaping the slight mortification of being towel-dried by them like some kind of baby, fresh out of the tub. Granted, he wasn't exactly fully-grown yet, but he'd been taking care of himself in that regard for more than a little while! But then again, that was about as much experience as Miles and Stella had gotten to enjoy before departing; looking after a toddler... In the end, he decided to simply sit back and enjoy it. Helga, meanwhile, had simply shaken her head at the parental display before attempting to quietly move below deck herself, hoping to capitalise on the opportunity. She made it as far as the first stair.

"Helga? Don't you want a towel too?" Cursing her luck, she turned back on hearing Stella's words, only to find herself barely containing a snort of laughter. While his parents had paused in their task, and were looking worriedly in Helga's direction, Arnold seemed completely dazed. Or maybe concussed... Apparently overeager, Miles had been a little more vigorous with the towel than intended, and the boy looked as though his eyes should have been spinning, his hair sticking out at angles physicists probably wouldn't think were possible. The fact that his hat was still in place was a whole other scientific conundrum...

"Oh, er, thanks, but I'm fine. Figured I'd... go take a nap or something. And there's probably towels in the other cabins." She fought for an escape, offering the couple an innocent, toothy grin.

"We are less than an hour away from Puerto Clara." Eduardo chimed in from the helm, causing the girl to mentally facepalm.

" _Really_? That's. Great." She seethed through clenched teeth, her smile starting to crack. "Well, all the same, you two look like you have your hands full giving Foo-, uh, Arnold the full treatment there, so I'll just leave you be..." She quickly turned, making it one more step.

" _Helga_."

Not only did Helga freeze once again, she couldn't help but give a small cringe. It was the tone Stella used that time that did it. The tone _all_ children learn to fear. _Mom_ tone... Miriam had only succeeded in pulling it off a small handful of times throughout Helga's life – the effect tends to be lost if you slur – but apparently nine years of sleep hadn't robbed Stella of the ability one little bit. Turning once more, Helga barely managed not to gulp; Stella had risen to her feet and was giving the girl a stern look, her eyebrows raised. ' _Crimeny, she's even got her hands on her hips..!_ ' In an instant, though, the woman's face softened into a concerned smile, and she moved in Helga's direction, clean towel in-hand. As she knelt down, Helga felt one more brief jolt of panic, worried that Stella was actually going to start drying her off as they had done their son! But instead, Stella simply offered it, her arm outstretched. Silently, and with a quirked brow, Helga accepted – at the back of her mind she really hoped the hesitant exchange didn't look like someone trying to gain the trust of a skittish animal...

"Before you go 'take your nap', would you mind if we talked? The four of us?" Stella glanced back in the direction of her family, both Shortman men's faces tinged with worry now that Arnold had recovered. Arnold in particular knew that this was _exactly_ what Helga had been afraid of. And much as the girl wanted to refuse, something in Stella's eyes made it clear that it wasn't exactly a request.

"Uh, can't it wait till we're back in the city? I'm pretty sure we're all tired here..." Helga tried one last attempt at escape. It wasn't even a lie! Hadn't she and Arnold already been through the whole 'dramatic talk' craziness with Gerald today? That had been more than draining enough!

Stella gave a short laugh. "I'm thinking things are going to get a little loud and exciting again once we get to the city, considering everyone's there waiting for us. It actually might be a little while before we can all talk quietly again. Please?" Helga glanced away, releasing a defeated sigh. Did this woman train with Dr Bliss or something? At this rate she'd have enough 'excitement' on this stupid boat to last her a lifetime.

"Ok."

Stella's smile immediately brightened. "Great. Come on, we can talk downstairs." The woman patiently allowed Helga lead to the way – a slow process, considering the girl felt as though she were walking to the gallows – and motioned with a nudge of her head for Miles and Arnold to follow. Falling obediently in line, Arnold could only offer his best friend an apologetic shrug before disappearing below himself.

"Mmm, mmm, mmm – here we go again..." Gerald muttered to himself, shaking his head, before turning to the only other person left in the room. "You ever get used to that?"

Eduardo have a low chuckle. "It's best to just sit back and enjoy the ride, amigo."

By the time the smaller group finally made it to the privacy of a cabin – the same cabin Helga had earlier tumbled into, to her dismay – the girl's legs had just about turned to jello. As it turned out, even the heart-racing stress of the earlier talk with Gerald didn't even come close. After all, if there were no other alternatives, she was pretty sure she could silence Tall Hair Boy one way or another... She was also pretty sure that, had she not already been wet from her unexpected trip to the crow's nest, her brow would have started to sweat. It didn't help one bit that having four people in the small room, two of them grown adults, made it seem more close and confining than ever. All she could do was take a seat on the nearest cot and wring the water from her pigtails for a second time. ' _Well this is a pretty lame case of déjà vu...'_ And then, just to make matters worse, Arnold seated himself right beside her, the two of them facing his parents shoulder to shoulder, as though trapped in the worst interview imaginable. At least the creeping dread made it much easier not to swoon at his closeness... And though she'd be reluctant to admit it, Helga was actually more than a little glad that he was there – the idea of having this chat with Miles and Stella alone was somehow even more daunting. As it was, the two could do nothing more than exchange brief, nervous glances as they waited for Arnold's parents to say whatever they wanted to say, their fingers clenching and twitching in their laps.

It was only then that Miles burst out laughing.

"I-I'm sorry!" He took a deep breath, holding up a hand. "I'm sorry, but you two look like you're about to be charged with treason or something!" The children were too shocked at this to do anything more than stare, wide-eyed.

" _Miles_." Stella shook her head, a soft giggle escaping her own lips as she gently slapped his shoulder. "He _is_ right though. We just thought there was a thing or two we should... clear up before we get back to civilisation. And Helga, if you happened to 'listen in' to our conversation earlier, I hope you know we aren't mad." The girl's eyes immediately bulged.

"Listen in?! Hey, heh, obviously I'd never _dream_ of doing something that intrusive or... weird." Helga semi-consciously scooched further back towards the wall, clearing her throat. "But, uh, _hypothetically_... you're really not angry?" She quirked her brow, glancing back and forth between the adults, looking for some sign of judgement or fury. Maybe it was a trap – it really did seem too good to be true.

Stella simply giggled again, and shook her head. "No Sweetie, I think I can guess why you _might_ have done something like that."

"Oh..." A tight knot was starting to form in Helga's stomach.

"You were worried about what Tiukwí said to us, right?" There was a pause as the girl allowed Stella's words to sink in. Fortunately, Helga had always been quick to seize an opportunity.

"... _YES_. That _is_ why." She nodded slowly, focussing most of her energy on not allowing a hugely relieved smile to spread across her face. ' _God, Buddha, Xenu –_ whoever's _up there – THANK YOU!_ ' What little she had left, she put into sending Arnold a desperate, silent, mental plea to not blow this one chance for an escape. Luckily, the boy seemed willing to keep quiet, as he'd promised.

"I think we can understand that." Stella nodded too, apparently none the wiser. "I'm pretty sure we were as shocked as you both were!" Helga and Arnold exchanged an uncomfortable glance at that claim; it might have been true to begin with, but something told them both that their little subterranean field trip with the old man might have tipped the scales to their favour in the 'minds blown' department. All the same, apparently the time had come to ask the question that had lingered on their minds since they first emerged from that dark tunnel.

"Mom, Dad," Arnold hesitantly began, "what _did_ Tiukwí tell you?" Both children held their breath, each feeling like they maybe should have been holding hands for this answer. They resisted the urge again, considering present company.

Given the way Miles' hand immediately made tracks to the back of his neck before he spoke, it was clear that he and Stella considered this topic as strange and awkward as they did. "Well, your mom and I already knew the Green Eyes thought you came into the world to fix an imbalance, son. And that they thought you were uh, 'stronger than the av-er-age spirit'." He chuckled nervously at the weak joke – Arnold _had_ loved that show, about nine years ago. "You can probably imagine, that's already a pretty intense thing to hear about your kid! But Tiukwí _never_ told us that the imbalance was... well..."

"Another person." Stella finished, turning her eyes to the uneasy blonde girl fidgeting before her. Helga wasn't sure she liked the look in the woman's eyes – they were full of a strange mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, as if Helga were some kind of unbelievable artefact that shouldn't logically exist. "He didn't say much last night before taking the two of you away, but he made it clear that the two of you were... Oh, what's the right word..? Linked? Connected?" She turned back to Miles for help – his understanding of the Green-Eyed People's language had always been better – and both children seized the opportunity to gulp. But the man just shrugged, looking a little lost himself.

"It sounded to me like it was a kind of yin and yang thing. Not that the Green Eyes exactly subscribe to Taoism... Honestly, he was talking so fast that I didn't get half of it."

Both Arnold and Helga finally felt able to exhale. It seemed as though Miles and Stella had the general idea without the specific details, and that was more than a small relief. All the same, it made the situation just a little more complex. Telling Gerald was one thing – after all, wild stories were his forte – but giving Arnold's parents the full picture seemed like a much bigger deal! Still, Helga was at least able to come up with one _very_ important question.

"So, do either of you actually _believe_ it? I mean, _you're_ the experts here, right?"

The adults shared an uncertain look, Miles eventually electing to be the one to answer. "Well, as to the whole 'spirit' thing, I guess you could say we're a little biased. I'm pretty sure just about every parent thinks their child is extra special, after all!" Helga only just managed to resist rolling her eyes – she could offer a nice, long counter-argument on _that_ score. "Although after everything the two of you have done, I'd say we have pretty compelling evidence on that one, huh?"

Stella nodded in agreement, giving a soft laugh. "As for the rest, we honestly don't know. Living with the Green Eyes, seeing the things we've seen, we know better than to just dismiss things because they sound unbelievable. But the truth is, well," she leaned forward to gently lay her hands on top of each of the children's, "we could only decide if we believed the rest if we actually _knew_ the both of you. And right now... we don't." The hand on top of Arnold's gave a tight squeeze, a look of pain briefly flitting across Stella's face as she looked directly into her son's eyes. "I _really_ hope we can fix that, and soon. That goes for you too, Helga." She turned to smile brightly at the girl. "After everything you've done for us, I hope we can get to know you better once this is all over."

"Yeah," Miles happily nodded in agreement, "you really helped save out butts! The least we can do is have you over for dinner when we get home." Suddenly a dark look crossed his face. "Uh, Arnold, one important question; does your grandma still insist on doing all the cooking?"

Arnold nodded back with a sympathetic smile; the look of a fellow trauma survivor. "She keeps saying watermelon contains nine of the thirteen food groups." Miles let this sink in for a moment before turning back to Helga.

"...The least we can do is take you out for dinner when we get home."

Helga blinked, stunned by the welcoming offer, trying to ignore Arnold as he collapsed into hearty chuckles. "Uh, whatever floats your boat... And hey, if you're buying, I don't say no to free food. But you know, we should probably bring Football Head along too," she nudged her head in the giggling boy's direction, "might be a little awkward otherwise."

" _Football Head?_ "

' _Oh crap!_ ' Helga's budding smirk froze, her eyes bulging, as both parents spoke together, each giving her a confused look. Helga could have downright kicked herself – it had been going so well! Seriously, a _dinner invitation_? Even if she _did_ save their lives, she figured that had to be about as good of an outcome to this little talk as she could have hoped for! ' _And now I've gone and ruined it with a single slip of the tongue! Now it's probably going to be right back to square one – sneaking brief, desperate glances at my beloved from afar! Why!? Why couldn't I keep my cruel habit under control, just this once? Who would have thought that calling him by that callous, insulting nickname every day of his life would lead to this bitter act of karmic justice?'_

"Oh, well... I, uh-" She began to splutter, before feeling hand rest lightly on her shoulder.

"Football Head. It's just a nickname that... some people use for me." Ok, maybe Helga had been wrong about Arnold's ability to lie through his teeth. He didn't even seem ill-at-ease as he smiled in her direction (that reassuring grin alone making her heart hammer in her chest). "Apparently my head might be a little wider than normal, or so I've been told." Arnold jokingly raised his hands to each of his ears, before bringing them forward, as if to examine the width. "I don't really see it." He finished, shooting Helga a final, teasing smirk.

In truth, Helga could easily have fainted. She'd never even imagined that, after all this time, he truly didn't care about her daily barrage of derisive name-calling. But come to think of it, she'd been going through her usual repertoire even since their confession the previous night (when Miles and Stella were out of earshot, of course, until now), and he hadn't so much as batted an eye. She hadn't even thought twice about it! Football Head – by this point it was just pure, natural habit. There wasn't even any malice in it... usually. She made a mental note to check whether 'Arnoldo' and 'Hair Boy' got the same pass later. 'Geek Bait' was probably out, and 'Shrimp' might have an expiry date (no pun intended) given Miles and Stella's heights...

She was snapped from her thoughts by Stella releasing something between a laugh and a groan, burying her face in her hands. _"I'm_ _sorry_! It's a family thing. You grow into into it, I promise!" Her husband burst out laughing as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey now, you know _I_ think it's cute!" Hearing this, Helga barely managed to stop the 'me too' from escaping her lips. Frankly, she was just shocked that she seemed to have escaped the slip-up with her reputation intact. Again! Maybe the universe really _was_ working in her favour for a change...

" _Anyway,"_ Stella finally emerged from her small cocoon, her face slightly red, "getting back to the matter at hand, I think the two of you are are probably more equipped than we are to decide if what the Green Eyes believe about your 'connection' is real. After all, who knows you better than you know yourselves? As for whatever Tiukwí showed you under the city, that was just for you, and you don't have to tell us what happened down there."

"Hey, _I_ wanna kno- _OW_!" Miles immediately protested, the mysterious cavern beneath the ancient city having always piqued his scientific interest, but a swift elbow from Stella was quick to silence him. He rubbed his now-sore arm, pouting – it really hadn't been that hard, but it was the _principle_ of the thing.

"You _don't_ have to tell us," Stella reaffirmed, shooting her husband a warning sideways glance, "if you don't want to. But from the way you both looked when you came back, I'm guessing it was a little scary." Both Arnold and Helga glanced away – talk about an understatement. Their reaction seemed to confirm Stella's suspicions; she moved to kneel before them, at their level, and her hands landed gently on each of their shoulders. "Well, just know you _can_ talk to us about this stuff if you ever need to. We've both seen our fair share of weird after all! More than most, I should think... Until then, if you want my advice, just be yourselves. Whatever Tiukwí told you, whatever the Green Eyes think you're supposed to be or do, it's pretty obvious that you're both wonderful, amazing people. You're incredibly special, mystical spirits or not."

"That's right." Miles softly agreed. "Arnold, we're more proud of you than we can ever say. You too Helga, if that means anything coming from a couple of strangers – I'm sure you make your own mom and dad proud every day."

"Ohh, you have NO idea..." Helga did her best to keep the acid out of her tone; it seemed a shame to ruin the moment. She was actually pretty sure that Bob's first question would be about the bag of obsolete beepers she failed to hawk. And actually, to her slight surprise, she found it _did_ mean something; getting _bona fide_ parental kudos for a change felt pretty sweet! Too bad she couldn't get that from _Bob_ without a trophy the size of Big Barney and a prize cheque to boot.

"Anyway," Stella finally pulled away, rejoining her husband on the opposite cot, "now that's been said, I'll bet the two of you have had more than your fill of all this strangeness, at least for a while. Thanks for agreeing to talk about all this, Helga." She gave the girl a warm smile. "You can go take that nap now, if you want. Or, if you're up for it, you can tell us a little about yourself? We were just talking to Arnold about your friends at school! If you didn't know that already." The woman shot Helga a teasing look, so similar to her son's. It immediately brought on a small cringe from the girl.

"Heh, yeah, they're a crazy bunch all right..." Helga suddenly sensed the microscope of scrutiny moving back in her direction, and nice as Arnold's folks seemed, the unfamiliar attention was starting to get under her skin. If Miles and Stella were going to get a full rundown of Helga G. Pataki, or at least the heavily-redacted version, then she definitely needed time to prepare! And besides, Helga's own opinions of the colourful cast of P.S.118 would only burst their bubble – let them live in blissful ignorance for a while longer. Sensing the window of opportunity closing quickly, she rose to her feet and began backing her way towards the door. "But hey, if I give you the full scoop now, there'll be nothing left to talk about during that dinner you promised! Nothing worse than an uncomfortable silence, am I right? Sooo, I'm... just... gonna leave you guys to it."

Without another word, and especially before anyone could argue, Helga threw open the door and darted from the room, her exit almost as dramatic and sudden as her earlier appearance, a damp towel the only remaining trace of her presence. The three Shortmans were left blinking, each of them a little surprised that the girl's speedy retreat hadn't left a trail of dust hanging in the air.

"You know what, Stel?" Miles finally spoke, turning to his wife. "You're right – I like that girl too."

And on the other side of the door, ear pressed tightly to the metal, Helga's face broke into a wide grin before she turned and made her way down the hall.

' _Two for two!_ '

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 **A/N I don't know if this is necessary, I don't know if people got the reference, but I'll say it anyway: I do not own Yogi Bear or any of his catchphrases...**

 **Thanks for reading - please take a moment to leave a review!**


	13. Chapter 13 - A Nice Surprise

**A/N Don't you just hate it when _life_ gets in the way of your hobbies? Apologies for the delay in getting this latest chapter to you all! I hope everyone finds it worth the wait. As always, a huge thanks to everyone who left a review since the last update. Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 13 - A Nice Surprise**

"I always wanted to say this: _LAAAND HOOO!_ "

Gerald's loud shout echoed off the boat's thin metal walls, filling every room. Volume aside, you could hear the enthusiasm in the two simple words. Considering the alternative options were interrupting Arnold's private time with his parents, another delightful period of strained silence with Helga G. Pataki, or sitting alone and trying to process everything that had happened since the previous night, the boy had elected to spend the last while trying to engage in awkward small talk with Eduardo. Add to that the confusion and discomfort that he'd had to deal with since setting foot on the boat, and Gerald was more than happy to be told their destination was only moments away. In his mind, Puerto Clara was one step closer to Hillwood, and that meant one step closer to sweet, sane, urban normality. If that was even possible any more... He knew all too well that the craziness of this trip would be following them home in more ways than one.

In any case, the rest of their small party responded to the call. Arnold had happily resumed catching up with his parents – he was almost sad that the rest of the world was ready to interrupt them again – and Helga had sequestered herself, hoping to lie back and try to settle her thoughts for a short while. It didn't work. How could it _possibly_ have worked? The previous night had been the mental equivalent of a magnitude-7 earthquake, and every time she thought her feet were steady again, this trip hit her with a fresh aftershock. Her mind was swirling chaotically, a crazy mess of giddy delight and persistent, nagging fears and worries. Fortunately, one of the very, _very_ few people to whom Helga G. Pataki could unburden herself was waiting for her in the city. Too bad for Gerald – he would have to wait his turn. As they all emerged from their cabins, she tried not to swoon at Arnold's shy smile in her direction, and together they ascended into the daylight.

"Ahh, sweet civilisation – it is _good_ to be back!" Gerald stood waiting as they emerged, apparently ready and eager to disembark, and he waved a hand in the direction of the approaching dock. He already sounded happier!

It felt so strange, finding themselves nearing the very same little pier that had been their starting point. The sun was finally finding the strength to force its way through the clouds here and there, the warm light bouncing and shimmering against the fast-moving river, and other boats – the larger and more confident ones – drifted past as they began their own journeys towards parts unknown. It all looked the same. The air they were breathing smelt the same. Even the sounds of the city were the same, loud chatter and distant music drifting through the air. Arnold blinked at the stunning realisation that it really _had_ only been a couple of days. It didn't seem possible that so much could change, so very drastically, in that brief length of time. It didn't even seem real. The notion caused him to clutch at the loose material of his parents' shirts, at either side of him, much as he had done the previous night while they all headed to their beds. Back then it had been to ease some strange, irrational fear that they would drift out of his grasp and be lost to him again. Now, it served as an anchor to reality, the very feeling of the course material against his skin reassuring him that he was awake, and that everything they'd been through was real life, and not a dream. That thought finally made him remember present company, and he gazed up at his parents with concern.

"Do you guys need a few minutes?" Sure enough, Miles and Stella looked almost dazed, his hands tightly gripping the safety rail, hers clasped tightly at her waist. Their eyes were wide and unblinking, filled with something akin to disbelief. All three children looked worriedly at the couple; they were seeing the opposite end of the spectrum. It all looked, sounded, _felt_ the same – it couldn't have been nine years. _How_ could it have been nine whole years?

"We're fine." For a moment, Stella's voice sounded breathless, far away. But she quickly tore her eyes from the scene to look down at her son, an uneasy smile in place. "It just feels pretty strange to be back here after... after so long. You know, your dad and I spent a lot of time with Eduardo here before you were born."

"Really?" Arnold wasn't convinced that they were 'fine' at all, but talking was better than staring into the distance like zombies. "Is that true, Dad?"

"Huh?" Miles finally tore himself away too, with a jerk. "O-oh, yeah! When we weren't busy building up villages or fighting river pirates." A thought struck him and he grinned brightly, turning back to Eduardo, still in his position at the controls. "Hey Eduardo, how about we show the kids that great place to get pupusas later?"

Eduardo's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry Miles, that place closed down a few years ago."

"Oh..." Miles' smile quickly disappeared, a dejected look overtaking him as he returned his gaze to the approaching city. His son patted his back, as high as the boy could reach.

"It's ok, Dad." Arnold did his best to sound comforting. "Maybe when we get home, I can show you guys all of _my_ favourite places. I bet you'd like the Dog Pound! Uhh, the hot dog restaurant, not the _actual_ pound. We're not welcome there any more since Grandma keeps staging mass breakouts."

"Yeah, and hey," Gerald quickly chimed in, "you can check out Antonio's too. _Mmm_ , mmm, mmm – best pizza in the city, if not the whole darn state!"

"Oh please," Helga rolled her eyes, though she wore a large smirk, "first place _I'm_ headed once we're back home is Slausen's. There're at least three triple chocolate shakes and a dozen cherries with my name on 'em!"

To their combined relief, Miles finally let out a chuckle. He turned away from the view to face the group, leaning back against the railing. "Well ok! Sounds like we'll be spoilt for choice! And I've gotta go with Arnold on this one; after all this time a hot dog with everything sounds just about perfect." As the man's voice took on a wistful tone, Arnold shot each of his friends a look of sincere gratitude.

"Miles Shortman!" Stella folded her arms, giving her husband a chastising, playful look. "You've been asleep for nearly a decade and the first thing you want is a _hot dog_? Oh no, buster – you're taking me out for a _real_ meal." Her eyes suddenly lit up, and her hand darted to her husband's shoulder. "Oh, I really hope that sweet little French place is still there! You know, Miles, the one on the corner, by the fountain. What was it called? Château something..?"

" _Chez Paris?!_ " All three kids responded, their jaws dropping – Helga's, perhaps, a little further than the others.

"That's it!" Stella looked as though she could bounce for a moment, before being overtaken by a confused look. "You've been there? Last I remember it was pretty... fancy." She refrained from mentioning that the waiter had been a pretentious jerk that she'd wanted to punch, but the food had been _so good_. Still, it was hardly a family restaurant.

"Yeah, we've been there once or twice." Arnold nodded. "What can I say, Mom; we're very sophisticated." He grinned widely, only allowing his eyes the briefest moment to dart in Helga's direction as Gerald released a distracting burst of laughter. As he'd hoped, the girl had quickly turned about as pink as her bow. He tried to remember any times from before this trip that he'd seen Helga G. Pataki blush, but they were very few and far between. In fact, knowing her, she'd probably always tried to hide it. In any case, it seemed to be happening more and more, and he was quickly coming to a conclusion – he liked it.

Yes, she was also shooting daggers at him, but it was worth it. He could practically hear her voice in his head. ' _Go ahead, Hair Boy – tell them about the cockroaches. I DARE you._ '

Stella giggled. "I'm sure you are. All the same, I'm impressed; your dad could never even read the menu."

"Hey, come on now." Miles protested with a sarcastic pout. "I can read Spanish, Portuguese, Latin, and _Green Eye_! What more do you _want_ from me?" And with a final, teasing grin from his wife, the man's regrets and anxiety were chased away, at least for now.

The conversation continued, jokes and debates on the quality of Hillwood's cuisine carrying them through those last, difficult minutes on the water, keeping their minds at ease, until Eduardo finally requested Miles and Stella's assistance in securing the boat to it's new mooring. Arnold tried to let the pleasure of the moment wash over him, and not be distracted by the utter, uncanny _weirdness_ of it all. He'd been standing on a boat, fresh out of a jungle no less, chatting to his _parents_ about the best places to eat in Hillwood, past and present. He'd have to start believing it at some point, he reasoned – maybe when he and his dad were getting those hot dogs.

"Man... No-one's gonna believe _any_ of this." Gerald spoke suddenly, snapping Arnold from his similar thoughts, the children having been left briefly alone. He was peering over the boat's edge, not that his mind was particularly focused on the rushing water below. "I'm not sure _I_ believe half of it. Seriously guys, be straight with me, did all that really happen, or did I just go crazy somewhere back there?"

"Yep, hate to break it to you but you're hallucinating." Helga joked, leaning against the cool wall. "What can I say; some street food you ate after we landed was _really_ bad..." Gerald rolled his eyes, smirking.

Arnold looked back and forth between the two. Between needing to chase Helga up the crow's nest and learning his parents' feelings on the whole Tiukwí business, he'd barely registered the fact that she and Gerald didn't seem ready to kill each other until now.

"So, you two seem... ok?" He tried not to sound too hopeful, not that he could really help it. Whatever the future held for him and Helga, Arnold desperately wanted his best friend to be onboard. As for the other two, they locked eyes for a moment, before glancing away in embarrassment. Once Arnold was clued-in, both were pretty sure their little formal discussion about Arnold and Helga's relationship (Gerald kept trying not to grimace at the very thought) would be placed firmly in the 'never to be spoken of again' vault.

"Don't sweat it, Arnold. We're cool." Gerald reassured his friend, Helga giving a single nod of agreement. He gave Arnold a serious look. "I mean, you and me _definitely_ have some stuff to talk about, man. A _lot_ of stuff. But with everything else going on, I figure that can wait till we're back on home turf. Or _any_ kind of turf... Seriously, am I the _only_ one who's ready to get off this boat?"

"Pfft, seconded." Helga raised a weary hand. She'd had a more stressful time on this little river cruise than she'd had in pirate prison!

Arnold blinked for a moment, before grinning. "Uh, 'thirded', I guess. And I know what you mean, Gerald – I can hardly believe any of this either. It's a pretty incredible story."

"Speaking of which, just how much of this are we going to share with those dinguses from school?" Helga spoke with hidden nervousness, having been struck by a moment of panic. Or at least she hoped it was hidden. There was a _lot_ about the last 24 hours that she really didn't want spread around. The three of them exchanged uncertain looks, each apparently trying to hit on the exact amount of information that was allowed to become public knowledge.

"Well, I _really_ don't want to lie to them again..." Arnold began, hesitantly.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Doi. I'm not talking about spinning something out of thin air here, Arnold. I'm just thinking we should... redact a detail or two."

Gerald's eyes widened, his hands quickly raised. "Whoa, look; if you're talking about you two being a... _whatever_ you are, then just leave me out of it. I'm not sure I like having that knowledge in my _own_ head – I'm sure as heck not gonna tell anybody else!"

"Gee, _thanks_ Geraldo." Helga bit back, feeling a little stung; was it really _that_ repulsive of an idea? Still, it was good to know Gerald wasn't about to blab before she was ready. She threw her arms out. "I'm talking about the _Tiukwí_ stuff, moron!"

Gerald frowned. "If I understood everything right earlier, ain't it pretty much the same thing?" Helga shot him a dry glare. "Ok, ok. All, uh, 'made for each other' stuff is off the table. Sound good?" Both blondes nodded more than readily at that. Neither had any interest in _anyone_ else learning that little detail just yet.

' _Well,_ ' Helga thought, ' _maybe just_ one _person..._ '

"Alright." Gerald pressed on. "And what about the rest?"

"I think it's ok to tell them about the Green Eyes, and about everything that happened with Lasombra. Just maybe leave out the weirder stuff?" Arnold suggested, quickly finding it ridiculous what apparently came under 'less weird' by this point. "I don't see why anyone needs to know about what the Green Eyes think of me and Helga."

"I know, I know," Gerald sighed, "you already got me to swear on that one, remember? No telling anyone about the shrines, statues or murals. No telling people that the Green Eyes are a bunch of Arnold-worshipping kooks. Y'know, personally, I still think you should just roll with it. Think how good it'll look on a college application some day! 'I am considered a god by a small Central American civilisation'. You'd _really_ stand out!" The boy finished with a wide grin. He'd _almost_ made a joke about using it as a pickup line, but the memory of Helga's final, intimidating exchange with the princess held him back. That whole thing made _way_ more sense now, and that knowledge somehow made it even scarier.

"You're bugging me Gerald..." Arnold frowned.

" _Fine_. But I _really_ don't get why you wouldn't tell people about the other Tiukwí stuff. Stopping a volcano? _Causing_ a volcano?! That's awesome! I mean, if any of it's true, it makes the two of you sound like s-"

"If you say 'superheroes' again, I'll throw you overboard." Helga quickly interjected, Ol' Betsy raised and ready. It wasn't a threat, it was a fact – he could swim from here just fine. Probably. Either way, Gerald clammed up.

"Ok..." For a moment he looked dejected. Suddenly though, the boy burst out laughing, his friends casting him worried glances until he spoke. "Heheh, I just realised – s-so, we're gonna tell the others that we found a hidden jungle city run entirely by kids, fought Lasombra for some kind of ancient, magical heart, saved an entire civilisation from a deadly disease, _and_ found Arnold's parents. That about cover it?" He paused, grinning madly at the other two, each giving him a hesitant nod after processing the list. "And guys; that's the _boring version_! _"_ On hitting the punchline, Gerald's laughter resumed, leaving him clutching his sides.

"Oh crimeny..." Helga shared an incredulous look with Arnold as the truth of his words sank in. But before she knew it, they were laughing too. Laughing at the impossibility of the last few days. Laughing at the overwhelming insanity of the whole thing. When it came right down to it, Gerald had no reason to complain – as tale-tellers go, their crazy lives left him downright spoiled! This was how Arnold's parents found them; tears in their eyes and barely able to stand. The adults could only share a perplexed look, and let them ride it out.

It wasn't long afterwards that the group finally said their goodbyes to the S.S. Eduardo (a cursory glance revealed the boat's _actual_ name to be ' _Serenidad_ ', leading Helga to hotly demand a rebranding once she learned the translation), and made their way to a waiting minivan; a battered, white, mud-streaked heap of a thing, proudly emblazoned with a peeling Helpers for Humanity logo and clearly a veteran of numerous excursions to the more out-of-reach regions of the jungle country. Still, appearances aside, it was probably a fortunate thing that they had a vehicle at all; the exhaustion was still etched deeply into Miles and Stella's faces – you could spot it, if you looked carefully enough – and the city was far from flat, climbing steeply up and away from the sea. And then there were the crowds. The streets were quieter by far than they had been when the children first arrived, the occasional stray strip of saturated confetti or colourful fabric being the only remaining evidence of the jubilant street parade and its vibrant floats. But the roads still bustled with activity as people went about their business, and the last thing Arnold wanted was to see his parents overwhelmed again by their return to civilisation. He watched them, as carefully as he could without openly staring, seeing them make occasional, nervous glances out the window, their hands held tightly together the entire time. Perhaps Puerto Clara, a place they used to know so well, was serving as their first real demonstration of the years that had passed. Well, Arnold himself notwithstanding... After all, the Green Eyes' city had been as frozen in time as they were, and their decade of sleep was as nothing to the jungle. But most cities, the kind that aren't carved from ancient stone and hidden behind lethal traps, are dynamic things. Nine years could make all the difference in the world, and what seemed the same from a distance could feel utterly alien with enough subtle changes – ones only noticeable to the familiar.

Maybe that's what Miles and Stella were seeing now – a entirely different world from the one they'd left.

It also didn't help that Helga had suddenly become oddly quiet and fidgety since entering the car, seemingly lost in her thoughts as her fingers drummed and twisted in her lap. All this considered, Arnold was grateful that their journey was a short one, unlike their arduous trek along the river, and they soon approached an antiquated hotel. He did his best to move his mind away from nagging worries, and towards brighter things; his grandparents were waiting for him, and so were his friends. He couldn't wait to see them, all of them, and the fact that they were safe in spite of his mistakes was a greater relief than he could even describe. He had a lot of apologies to make, he thought, and probably more than a few reparations (including buying Sid a new pair of beatle boots...). He could only hope that they would forgive him, in time. But for now, he was faced with the unreal task of introducing the class of P.S.118 to Miles and Stella Shortman. ' _At least I'll have Grandma and Grandpa there too – maybe it'll feel less overwhelming. Maybe the others have been sitting around wondering what my parents are like!_ ' The amusing thought made him pause, just as he was reaching to open the door, as he reflected on what Eduardo had told them the night before. That the class knew they were safe, that the others were waiting for them.

"Uh... Eduardo?" The rest of the group stopped; he had the attention of the whole car.

"Yes?" Their driver raised a quizzical brow.

"Dumb question, but you did _tell_ people that Mom and Dad are with us, right?" All eyes turned to the man, waiting for an 'of course', or even another simple 'yes'. Their jaws dropped when he simply cleared his throat and glanced away, nervously fidgeting with the wide hat in his lap.

"Oh, Eduardo, you _didn't_..?" Stella was incredulous.

"I thought it would be a nice surprise..." The man finally admitted, with an awkward shrug.

" _Nice?!_ " Miles practically screamed. "My parents are gonna have heart attacks!"

Eduardo rolled his eyes. "I am not suggesting that you wait behind their door and _shout_ 'surprise', Miles." His friend could only slump back in his seat, at a complete loss.

"Ok, so what _are_ we supposed to do, Ed?" The revelation had snapped Helga from her apparent trance, and she tried her best to throw her hands up in their cramped quarters. "Just walk in there and say 'Ta-da'? 'Cause I'm pretty sure 'The Great Arnoldini' back here left his magician's outfit at home!" The jerked a thumb in the boy's direction.

"You have a little magician's outfit?" Stella quickly interjected, turning to her son, unable to contain a wide, adoring smile. "That's so _cute_!"

" _Mom_... _"_ Arnold buried his face in his hands on sheer reflex, his cheeks flushing, before realising what he was doing. ' _I just got embarrassed by my mom! Guess it really_ does _come naturally..._ ' It was a pretty confusing conflict, and not one that helped solve the current problem.

Helga winced at her beloved's discomfort. "Uhh, not important right now. Look, there's basically a half-crazed mob waiting for us in there." She paused, ' _including Bob, Miriam and Olga – I think I'd rather deal with a_ genuine _angry mob, pitchforks and all..._ '. "And I'm guessing you'd rather not have this little reunion with a bunch of gawking spectators. So why don't me and Gerald head in there first, and you guys wait in another room or something. We can send Arnold's grandma and grandpa out to you. Y'know, let you guys break it to them gently, or whatever." She finished, folding her arms.

"That... actually does sound like a pretty good strategy." Gerald conceded.

"Yeah, that's a good idea – thanks Helga." Arnold agreed, sending her a small, grateful grin. That alone hit her hard enough. When he quickly followed it with a gentle hand on her arm, she could practically hear the fireworks go off in her head, even from that simple touch; it was probably lucky she was already sitting down.

"No problem..." She began dreamily, before catching herself with a shake of her head, her earlier anxiety coming back in full force. "Uhh, _so_ , we have a plan and we're not getting any younger – let's move, people!" In a flash, she had flung open the door and darted from the car.

"O...k." Miles raised a brow at the girl, who was now rapidly pacing outside the vehicle, apparently taking in large lungfuls of air. He and Stella shared a look of silent communication. It was true; Eduardo's stunt hadn't left them with many better options. They reached an agreement. "Well, you heard her. Let's go kill my parents." He shot a mild glare in his friend's direction, Eduardo looking increasingly sheepish by this point, and pointed a finger. "And you know what? I'm not paying for those shelves!" With a final, resigned groan and a shake of his head, Miles followed suit and left the vehicle, the rest of the group moving anxiously in his wake.

The hotel was by no means five-star quality, not that it was derelict or unpleasant to look at. It stood only three storeys tall, a collection of dark wooden doors and narrow, questionable metal balconies stretching up the side of the building. Its white paint was stained and faded from age and the elements. Still, the entryway was beautifully etched and carved from thick stone – although not nearly as grand as the Green Eyes' architecture – and the view was undoubtedly a prized feature. The building stood above and apart from the narrow, winding streets of the city; Puerto Clara and the ocean lay spread out beneath it, the green expanse of the jungle disappearing into every other direction. But the scenery was far from anyone's mind now. The group headed towards the entrance, Helga surreptitiously pausing, apparently to tie her shoelace, as the others moved by her one-by-one. It was only when Arnold passed, last in line, that she stood, quick as lighting, and yanked him to one side, out of sight.

The boy blinked at suddenly finding himself with his back against a wall, watching as Helga silently poked her head around the corner, seeing the rest of the group move further away, their absence unnoticed just for this brief moment.

"Helga, what's going on?" At his words, the girl quickly looked back to him, her expression appearing worried, fearful, sad... or maybe apologetic? That was as much warning as he got before her eyes shut tightly, and he found her lips pressed desperately to his own. He had no time to react or move his arms, to close his own eyes or process the flurry of explosions that went off in his chest and mind. It was over as abruptly as it began, Helga pulling away. Her grip on his shoulders, though, seemed to tighten even further; he half expected her to shake him.

"Whatever I say in there, whatever I wind up doing in front of all those other idiots, just don't _believe_ it, ok? Please? I... I don't mean it. I don't..." She spoke quickly and quietly, her tone fraught, before taking a breath. " _None_ of this, not one second, was heat of the moment – _got_ that?"

Finally, Arnold understood. Her eyes were wide and pleading, seldom-seen vulnerability shining through in a blue sea of fear and doubt. They'd talked about it a little, the previous night. But now the time was suddenly here, and the girl had been forced to try and fit everything she wanted to say into the space of a few short, frantic seconds. Well, say and show. He knew, although he didn't quite comprehend yet, why Helga hid the way she felt for so long. He knew it had a lot to do with the people waiting for them inside. This thing between them was brand new, untested, and frankly he had no idea how _he'd_ wind up handling it either.

He understood.

"I got it." He spoke softly, reassuringly, raising his arms to take hold of her tightly-clenched fists. Again, his thumbs began to slowly rub back and forth against her skin. Again, they apparently did it all on their own. He didn't try to stop it this time. "We're working out the kinks, remember? One step at a time. You don't need to flip a switch."

The girl hung her head and released a deep breath, her body un-tensing a little. "Ok." She released him, taking a small step back, before raising a finger to lightly, half-heartedly jab him the chest, her eyes narrowing. "If this all turns out to be an awesome dream after all, I will _kill_ you." Arnold grinned brightly.

"You think I'm awesome?" He teased, watching her flush.

"... _Shut up_ , Arnold." As she swiftly turned away, making to catch up with the others, he only _just_ caught the barely held-off smirk appearing on her lips before he moved to follow.

Another conclusion – he liked those too.

"Where the heck did you two... You know what, I don't wanna know." Gerald shook his head, as they approached the waiting group, gathered in the hotel's small lobby. An extremely bored-looking woman, apparently the receptionist, sat nearly dozing behind a large desk, but the place seemed otherwise empty. The boy looked around. "Ok, so where is everybody?"

" _And_ _I just told you, I ain't waiting any longer!_ " Right on cue, a gruff voice boomed from down one of the nearby hallways. " _If you don't have her here in the next two minutes, I'm gonna bulldoze that whole stinkin' jungle myself!_ "

"Theeere's Bob." Helga groaned, facepalming.

"Is that your dad, Helga?" Miles cast an apprehensive glance in the direction of the loud tirade. "He sounds... nice?"

"Yeah, he's a real peach..." The girl rolled her eyes. It figured that Bob would finally remember her existence at time that embarrassed her in front of as many people as possible.

"Apparently everyone has been waiting together in the dining room since breakfast." Eduardo returned from a brief talk with the receptionist. "I have also been told that this hotel will no longer welcome Helpers for Humanity or any of its 'associates'."

"Yeah, that pretty much figures." Helga tried not to shudder. The probably-traumatised class of P.S.118, including a half-feral Curly and a broken Simmons, in the same room as the Patakis _and_ Arnold's grandparents, all stuck together for hours? The building was probably lucky to still be standing, and life in the jungle was starting to seem like a better and better option... "Ok. We'll go sacrifice ourselves to the horde now. Maybe you guys should wait across the hall?"

"It's good of you to help us out like this, Helga." Stella knelt down, much as she'd done the previous night, and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. In truth, the mother was a little concerned – it hadn't escaped her notice that Helga hardly seemed excited to be reunited with her family. "We appreciate it!"

"Y-yeah, well, happy to be of service." The girl spoke hastily, trying to ignore the look of disbelief the comment earned from Gerald, before nudging her head towards the corridor. "Come on, let's do this."

Heading towards the noise somehow began to feel like counting down to a detonation, more and more loud, familiar voices becoming discernible the closer they got – along with a few thumps and the odd cackle. Still, Helga had the presence of mind to quickly seize a handful of tissues as they passed a box on the front desk. She had a hunch... She watched as the Shortmans quickly selected a room in which to wait, just across the corridor, before Arnold turned back.

"Thanks again for doing this guys." He addressed both of his friends. "Tell the others I'll come through in a little while, ok? Just after we've broken the news to my grandparents."

"Dude, don't worry about it." Gerald grinned. "I'm pretty sure we can keep them at bay for a _little_ while. Do what you gotta do." He offered a fist, which Arnold happily accepted, the two of them exchanging their trademark shake.

Arnold's own grin faded a little, though, as he looked at Helga; he could see she was still apprehensive despite his words. Much as he wanted his parents' and grandparents' reunion to be private, a large part of him wished that he could stay and do more to help her troubled mind.

"I'll see you in a few minutes, ok Helga?"

"Hey, no need to rush, Football Head – I _have_ been stuck with you for a couple of days now, ya know." There was no real bite in the girl's mock insult, and Arnold couldn't help but smile. With that, he finally moved to follow his parents, the three of them departing to wait anxiously for Phil and Gertie's arrival.

As soon as they were gone, Helga quickly turned to Gerald. "Take these and stick 'em in your ears." She handed the boy two small wads of tissue. As you'd imagine, he looked at her as though she'd lost her mind.

"Uh, is there a _reason_ for this? I mean, I know they're a little loud in there, but really?"

She simply shrugged, before blocking her own ears as tightly as she could. "Do what you like Geraldo. But it's for your own good – trust me." Uncertain, but going with his gut, the boy begrudgingly started to do the same.

"Uh, do I need some too?" Eduardo asked, perplexed but curious.

Helga looked him right in the eyes. The sound was muffled – hopefully that would be enough. She flashed him her sweetest smile and gave him a quick pat on the back. "Nah, don't sweat it Ed." Before the man could process the odd action any further, and with a final nod of confirmation from Gerald, the girl turned.

Helga opened the door.

For a second, maybe two, the din filling the room came to an abrupt halt as they stepped inside. Every eye in a small sea of familiar faces turned in their direction. It was a very brief moment of peace. But then, just as Helga had predicted:

" _BAAABY SISTEEEER!_ "

Helga stole a glance in Eduardo's direction. Seeing the man clutching his ears, his face pained, she allowed herself a quick, evil smirk.

' _Nice surprise_ , _huh Ed?_ '

* * *

 **A/N As always, if you enjoyed the chapter please take a moment to leave a review. Thanks for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14 - Across the Hall

**A/N What can I say, except that I hope I've done these reunions justice? As always, huge thanks to everyone who took the time to review the last update - the amount of feedback was amazing, and I appreciate every last bit of it. Thanks for reading, and I really hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 14 - Across the Hall**

Much as Helga hated being called 'Baby Sister', and much as she _really_ hated Olga's usual blubbering theatrics, there was no denying the usefulness of Olga coming with a built-in early warning alarm. The woman apparently learned to hug from watching trash compactors in action, and that was on a day when Helga's life _hadn't_ been in genuine danger. And hearing those two dreaded words, especially at that window-shattering volume, usually meant that a hug was only a second away.

Helga's brain could do a lot with a second.

The first priority was to take as big of a lungful of air as possible; oxygen was about to become a rare and precious resource. Once that was underway, the second priority was doing her best to take in an entire chaotic room in the space of a single instant. After all, if the mob looked _too_ crazed there was still a slim chance that she could make it back out the door – she'd probably need to throw them Gerald as a sacrifice, but such was the law of the jungle... Her eyes quickly took in the scene; from the look of things, there hadn't exactly been too much 'intermingling' between the various groups. Hardly a surprise. And Olga's banshee impression had left every face momentarily wincing in pain.

The soon-to-be sixth grade class of P.S.118 occupied a large corner of the dining room. Curly, still wearing nothing but a leaf skirt while the others had each been given a change of clothes, was several metres up and swinging dangerously from the curtain rail. At least that was normal... Eugene, at a glance, seemed to have shrunk down to his regular size and shape. Harold was kneeling next to... something – it looked a little like a clumsily thrown-together scarecrow with a watermelon for a head. Sid and Stinky were at his side, as usual, their hands on his shoulders. Nadine sat with her back to the wall, clutching an armful of glass jars like a protective mother in a war zone. A bedraggled, fatigued-looking Rhonda, who'd somehow wound up with a _bald spot_ , sat alongside her best friend – she was wearing a tattered, white, hugely oversized Helpers for Humanity t-shirt, and looked as though she might cry. Aaaand, yep – there was Brainy, just... standing there, probably mid-wheeze. It really _was_ good to see that he was ok, considering. But for Helga, the most welcome sight was Phoebe, alive and unharmed. The two of them had a _lot_ to catch up on! The girl was already rushing quickly to her feet, her reactions a little quicker than her classmates'. She had apparently been sitting with a semi-catatonic Mr Simmons. A blanket had been draped over his shoulders, and he was still clinging tightly to his precious Agenda. And rocking slightly.

Standing apart from them were Arnold's grandparents, each with an arm around the other's waist. The fact they were even here was still shocking enough! On the other hand, it really said something about Arnold's grandma that the sight of the octogenarian woman in full combat gear, helmet and all, wasn't surprising in the least... Their free hands, which had been tightly clasped, had fallen to their sides in shock at the new arrivals.

And finally, to Helga's _boundless_ joy, there were the Patakis. Bob's tomato-red face had quickly turned in her direction, the veins on his thick neck popping even more as he did so. He currently had a tight grip on the shirt of an ill-fated Helper for Humanity, apparently the recipient of the thundering rage heard all the way down the hall, and who probably now needed a long sabbatical. Miriam, looking extremely out of her comfort zone and on the brink of passing out (again, normal), had apparently been tending to a weeping Olga. The younger woman's duties as a responsible adult were apparently long forgotten... But more importantly, Olga's desperate, mascara-streaked face and outstretched arms were approaching Helga with roughly the same speed and force as a professional quarterback. Apart from briefly wondering just _how_ Olga still had mascara left to run after being in the jungle so long, Helga could do nothing but wince.

' _Oh CRAP, is this gonna hurt..._ '

" _OOF!_ " Olga dove with a wail, tackling Helga and locking her in an embrace that would make a reticulated python ask for pointers. The younger girl was honestly surprised her eyes didn't bulge out like a squeaky, squeezable dog toy.

"O-oh, my _poor_ , _sweet_ baby sister! Thank goodness you're okaaay!" Olga bawled straight into Helga's ear, far too loud even _with_ the earplug. Honestly, she would have responded – probably venomously – but she couldn't spare the breath. Still, Helga was vaguely able to hear the mass scrambling of feet, the scraping of chairs, and the sound of various familiar voices shouting "Helga!", "Gerald!", or "You're alive!". Needless to say, they weren't at the forefront of her mind.

' _Crimeny, my spine! My ribs! My arms!_ ' The girl felt several dull, worrying pops. ' _So this is how I die... I KNEW it!_ '

" _Helga!_ " The shout came from the two remaining adult Patakis in the room. Of all the people to save Helga's life, who'd have ever thought it would be Big Bob? Having released his previous victim – the Helper was now quickly darting from the room, probably to go take stock of his life – he and Miriam had been hot on Olga's heels. Feeling herself being roughly plucked from Olga's grasp and lifted up by a far larger set of arms, Helga had an instant to take in a huge, precious gasp of air before being yanked into a very rare embrace from her parents. She kind of appreciated the gesture, but honestly she wasn't sure what appeal Arnold saw – being pinned between Big Bob and Miriam in a group hug just felt unsettling. In any case, it only lasted a few short seconds before Bob pulled her higher, bringing her to his eye-level. "What in the Beeper Empire were you _thinking,_ girl?! You had us worried sick!" In fairness, Bob's face really was painted with seldom-seen concern, his eyes filled with worry and his thick brow deeply furrowed. The dark red of his skin was fading back to an angry pink. Sadly, he was also reinforcing every single syllable with a hearty shake of the girl in his arms.

"Bob!" Glad as Helga was to have the ability to talk again, her head was starting to spin – she didn't make it back from the jungle intact just to get whiplash now. "I! Am not! A magic! 8-ball!"

With Helga occupied by her family's 'enthusiastic' greetings, Gerald was left to take on the remaining stampede of friends. But unlike Helga, Gerald was lucky – Phoebe was first in line. He only just had time to remove his own earplugs (he'd have to thank Helga later) and open his arms, a wide grin on his face, before the small girl crashed into him for her own tight hug. It didn't quite have Olga's supernatural power behind it, but the spirit was clearly there, and Phoebe was stronger than she looked in her own right. In fact, Gerald was so focussed on returning the warm gesture that he only half-realised how far this went beyond their usual modest contact. Really though, what part of this trip had been in any way ordinary? In that moment, he didn't care – it had been pure instinct, and it felt right. He opened his mouth, ready to make some smooth comment, only for his eyes to suddenly widen at a rapidly-approaching hazard.

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_!" Before he could finish frantically raising his hands in protest, his and Phoebe's embrace was abruptly ended by a clumsy, full-speed charge from Harold, quickly followed by Stinky and Sid, taking Gerald off his feet. Apparently none of the other boys were able to recognise a 'moment' when they saw one... As it was, Phoebe could only jump back and watch worriedly as all four became trapped in a messy dogpile, and be glad that she'd somehow escaped the crush. Gerald, on the other hand, could only groan and wonder which of the various nearby limbs were his own. It really didn't help when Curly launched himself on to the top of the heap, apparently not wanting to be left out, bouncing and cackling gleefully.

For a few moments, the air was filled by a deafening, indecipherable roar of shouted questions, the remaining classmates joining the growing crowd by the door and everyone talking at once. The situation was quickly descending into chaos, until a single raised, reedy voice cut over the incredible din.

" _Everyone shut your yaps!_ " The shout was loud and demanding enough to bring the room to a standstill, the only sound being Olga's continued sniffles. Honestly, none of the people that knew him even a little had heard Arnold's grandpa use that tone. Not even Big Bob, and their interactions had hardly been friendly. "All you kids pipe down! Pataki, for Pete's sakes quit shaking your girl before her head comes off!" The old man, and for once he really did seem like an old man, looked desperately back and forth between Helga and Gerald (or at least the parts of Gerald that were visible in the tangle of bodies).

"Where's Arnold?"

Phil reaffirmed his grip on his wife's hand, the woman herself being _very_ uncharacteristically quiet and her own expression one of deep concern. The question slowly started to be echoed around the group. Every eye was suddenly searching for the absent, football-headed boy. Well, almost every eye – Simmons was still seated, mumbling to himself and apparently lost in a dream world, and Bob was obtuse enough to ask "Who?".

"Mr and Mrs Shortman," Eduardo finally stepped forward from his place by the door – once his ears had stopped ringing, he'd been more than happy to stay well clear of the mad scramble, "I don't know if you remember me-"

" _Aah!_ " Sid, who had finally untangled himself, and who was rising to his feet, immediately scrambled backwards and pointed a trembling finger. "It's Lasombra!"

" _No!_ " Helga quickly shouted out, cutting off the sparks of alarm that the boy had set off around the children of the group, as she finally wriggled out of Bob's grasp. Sparing a moment to remove her own earplugs, she waved her hands. "Relax morons – this is the _actual_ Eduardo. Authentic moustache and everything." There were a few murmurs of relief, though Sid still eyed the man with suspicion.

"Oh yeah, and we remember _you_ all right." Phil narrowed his eyes and aimed a bony finger in the man's direction. "Miles' old college buddy. The nice guy who showed up outta the blue and begged our kids to head to the jungle, right before they were _never seen again_! Where's our Arnold!? I _knew_ we shouldn't of told him he could look you up!"

Eduardo hung his head, hat clasped tightly in his hands. His voice was quiet. "Arnold is just across the hall. I will take you to him right now." He gestured to the door, avoiding the couple's eyes.

"What?" Phil's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why didn't you say so!? And why's the short man in another room? Is he hurt?" His tone took on a edge of panic.

"No! No, he's fine." Eduardo quickly raised his hands, his eyes wide. "It is... complicated. Please, if you would just come with me."

"Well then, what are we standing around for? Move it slowpoke!" Hearing that Arnold was well seemed to finally bring out a trace of Gertie's usual self. Gripping Phil's arm, she began quickly marching him towards the door. The rest of the group looked on as, with a sigh of relief, Eduardo escorted the old couple from the room. It was a moment of confused silence, and not one that lasted long.

" _Heeey_ , what gives?" Harold was the first to speak up. "I wanna see Arnold too!" His words brought forth a round of ' _Yeah_ 's.

"If he ain't hurt, then why's he hidin' across the hall?" Stinky questioned, scratching his head.

"Well he's probably _embarrassed_!" Rhonda took it upon herself to answer. Her usual haughty tone was in place, and her arms were folded, but current 'look' really did detract from the overall effect. "After all, he _did_ get us kidnapped by pirates. And now we've been stuck here all day wearing," she gave a deep shudder, " _hand-me-downs_... Honestly, he's just lucky we weren't all killed or I would be _furious_ with him!"

Helga suddenly found herself in her first moment of conflict. Her gut reaction had been a toss-up between explaining exactly _what_ would happen to Rhonda if she didn't shut up, or just outright skipping that part and throttling the snarky little princess. But the words caught in her throat, and her fists froze in mid-clench. Helga G. Pataki was _not_ known for leaping to Arnold's defence – at least not publicly. Luckily, Gerald came to the rescue.

"Hey now, it's nothing like that." He rose to his feet, shooting Rhonda a sharp look. "He'll be through in a few minutes – he's just gotta take care of something with his grandma and grandpa first."

Rhonda released a small, impatient 'humph', a hand moving to her hip. "What kind of something?"

"The _private_ kind, Rhondaloid!" Helga finally caved, glaring at the other girl. "So how about you drop it!?" She took a moment of satisfaction from watching Rhonda's jaw drop, a scandalised look quickly spreading across her face, before being startled by yet _another_ pair of arms wrapping around her waist. Apparently going missing for a couple of days was hazardous to her personal space.

"Oh Helga, I'm so glad you're ok!" Helga's hackles lowered slightly on realising the new embrace had come from Phoebe. After all, between Olga and Bob her best friend hadn't really had a chance until now. In a more private setting, Helga might have returned the hug wholeheartedly – she'd been anxiously looking forward to seeing Phoebe all day. Not to mention, there was about a ton of insanity that Helga was desperate to unload as soon as possible. But with this many of their classmates looking on...

"Hey, don't act so surprised Pheebs." Helga compromised, draping an arm around the other girl's shoulders in a casual side-hug, a standard smirk in place. "Takes more than a psychopathic river pirate to take _me_ down ya know." She at least tried her best to send Phoebe a message through her eyes: ' _I'm so glad you're ok too!_ '. To her relief, the gesture seemed to be enough; Phoebe released her with a nod and a small giggle. Suddenly though, the girl's face became serious.

"Really though, Arnold _is_ alright, isn't he? We've been so worried about you all." Helga's smirk couldn't help but soften into a genuine smile; Phoebe's honest concern was touching.

"Yeah Pheebs, Football Head really is fine. He just-"

"Wait a minute!" Bob suddenly, _loudly_ interjected. Helga flinched – she was probably lucky that her family had managed to stay silent even for _this_ long. "That little pest with the weird-shaped head? _He's_ the reason you went running off on your own!? I shoulda known – every time that kid shows up he just causes me trouble!" Helga could only facepalm with a low groan; of all the times for Bob's dense, beeper-centric brain to put two and two together and actually _remember_ who Arnold was, it had to be with nearly all her classmates as witnesses.

"Oh n-no, B, Archie's a _nice_ little boy." Miriam spoke unsteadily, weakly placing a hand on her husband's arm. "He's, uh, he's the one who looked after Helga when she got amnesia from that baseball, remember?"

Bob quirked his brow, looking lost. "She got what now..?"

Helga wondered whether, if she concentrated _really_ hard, she could make a volcano erupt right underneath Big Bob. Just a small one. But no – if it was going to happen, it would've already happened a _long_ time ago. Instead, she growled wearily and rubbed her forehead.

"Amnesia, Dad, as in I lost my memory. Probably the best day of my crummy life..." She muttered the last part acidly, under her breath. It was a lie. The best day of her life, bar none, had been just the day before, mortal jeopardy and all. "And what are you two even _doing_ here? You know the international beeper market's just as dead, right?"

"Hey! Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey, less of that talk, little lady!" Bob aimed a warning finger. "People all over the _world_ are gonna get a clue soon enough, you mark my words. And we're _here '_ cause we got an SOS call – courtesy of _beepers_ I might add!" He folded his arms, apparently proud to have made his point.

Helga raised a quizzical brow. "An SOS? How the heck..?"

"It was us, Helga!" Phoebe brightly interjected at her side. "I used the sack of beepers you left behind-"

"And _my_ cellphone!" Rhonda sharply interjected, Helga's earlier put-down having left her pouting.

"...And Rhonda's cellphone, to send out a distress call. It was a simple matter of reordering the basic components and incorporating some nearby objects in order to assemble a sufficiently powerful transmitter to send a signal back home."

"Yeah, and then it blew up!" Harold butted in with a wide grin, mimicking an explosion with his arms. "It was _awesome_!"

"Whoa, seriously?" Gerald gave Phoebe an earnestly awed look. "Phoebe, that's _incredible_!" The girl glanced away with a shy smile, her cheeks turning pink.

" _A_ _rigatō_ , Gerald. It really was nothing..."

"Huh," Helga turned back to her parents, amazed, "so you guys got the distress call, and you actually _came_? _"_ She couldn't help but let another small, surprised smile form; to think her parents found out she was in trouble and flew all the way there to try and save her was actually... pretty cool. "Mom, Dad, that's really-"

"You're darn right we came!" Bob cut over her. "No way were we gonna let our Olga get hurt in some God-forsaken jungle." Helga's face immediately fell while Bob put a protective arm around his eldest daughter's shoulders, the older girl giving a clueless, appreciative smile.

' _Ooof course..._ ' In that moment, Helga really started to wish that Arnold was there. Then again, if his hand had been nearby, she was pretty sure she wouldn't have the courage to hold it.

"But hey, now that you're back safe and sound we can finally get ourselves out of this dump." Bob pressed on. "You girls wait here – I've gotta track down the bum that flew us out here and make sure he doesn't stiff us on the trip back. And you'd better believe these 'Helper' bozos are gonna cover the tab once I'm through with 'em! You coming, Miriam?"

His wife let out a weary sigh. "Sure, B – right behind you." She was long overdue a smoothie, and there sure weren't any here.

"And hey, uh, Helga." Bob paused as they moved to leave, placing a large hand on his daughter's shoulder. He looked uncomfortable. "Do me a favour and don't run off again, alright? You're gonna give your old man a heart attack."

Miriam then moved in too, kneeling to wrap her own thin arms around Helga's neck once Bob stepped aside. "That's right, Helga sweetie – no more jungle adventures, ok?"

"Uh, sure guys. You got it." Helga awkwardly rubbed her elbow while Miriam stood, not meeting either of her parents' eyes. She didn't know how else to react. But Olga, of course, gave each of them an affectionate goodbye before they left the room.

"Well anyway," Phoebe quickly tried to move the conversation along, barely holding back a sad frown – she had noticed her friend's discomfort, "as I was saying, we were able to subdue our captors and take control of the camp. It was shortly afterwards that the _actual_ Helpers for Humanity located us. We may have caused a, uh, _minor_ explosion that revealed our position." She scratched sheepishly at her cheek. "They escorted us back to town, once Curly had been properly restrained, that is..."

"I shall never apologise for being _free_!" The boy in question shrieked from the sidelines, having jumped on to the nearest table.

"And now we're all safe and _together_ again! Isn't it just _wonderful_ you guys?" Hearing Eugene's customarily sunny voice for the first time, both Gerald and Helga turned in his direction. They'd heard him talk like that before, and both were prepared to stop him from bursting into song. They quickly recoiled.

" _Oh!_ Eugene, what the heck happened, man!?"

"Crimeny, what were you, attacked by Africanized bees!?"

The red-headed boy might have been back to normal size, but now that they were paying attention for the first time, it was _very_ clear that not everything was well. His skin, from what they could see, seemed almost completely covered in angry-looking, lobster-red blotches. Plus his arms were securely tied to his sides, they had to hope for related reasons... He rolled his eyes, his smile as bright and toothy as ever. "Oh, this? Funny story – once we got back, they gave me a shot to make the swelling go down. Wouldn't you know it, turns out I was allergic to _that_ too! My skin feels like it's being bitten by like a _bazillion_ fire ants. They didn't have any antihistamine, but the guys were swell enough to tie me up to keep me from scratching, so I'm ok! I feel just like brave Odysseus, bound to his mast to resist the sirens' call!" He did his best to strike a dramatic, hands-free pose.

"That's... great, buddy." Gerald managed a forced, reassuring smile and a thumbs-up in the boy's direction. The kid had issues...

Helga, on the other hand, despairingly shook her head. ' _Yeah, and Odysseus went insane!_ ' This whole thing was pretty much going as well as she'd expected.' _You'd better get in here soon, Arnold – before I lose_ my _mind too._ '

"First of all, I promise you that Africanized bees _or_ a bazillion fire ants would be much, _much_ worse." Nadine spoke smartly, a finger raised. The quick, dreamy smile across her face, though, made it apparent that encountering _either_ of those horrors would be a personal dream come true. "Secondly, that's _our_ story – what about you guys? Did you find the Green Eyes? And what happened to Lasombra!?"

At a second round of ' _Yeah_ 's, Helga and Gerald exchanged a look. She was worried, but he wasn't - far from it. It looked like it was time for the greatest legend of his young life by far to take its maiden voyage, and he couldn't help but rub his hands together in anticipation, a huge grin forming. He moved away from the door, to the middle of the room – centre stage.

"Well now, it's quite a tale, so you all had better get comfortable. Yo Sid, come here a second!"

Helga looked on with exasperation at Gerald's enthusiasm. She should have guessed that his story-telling instincts would be revved up and raring to go. Still, she figured, better him than her. She watched as Sid, surprised for a brief moment, quickly darted to Gerald's side, nodding and giving short sounds of understanding as the other boy whispered in his ear. The others, more than used to Gerald's expert performances by now, scrambled quickly to claim seats, or to position themselves comfortably on the floor (or in Curly's case, a tabletop) like a good audience. Even Olga daintily sat down to give Gerald her attention, smiling amicably. Helga had to concede – Tall Hair Boy was good at what he did. She found her own place next to Phoebe (who she quickly noticed was giving Gerald a _particularly_ rapt look), and tried to gauge just how quickly she'd be able to break for the door or silence Gerald with a tackle – just in case either became necessary. And then Sid began to speak.

"The legend of the Green-Eyed People will be passed down from kid generation to kid generation, and onward. And Gerald is the keeper of _all_ legends, the teller of _all_ tales. Take it away Gerald!"

Gerald stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Hidden _deep_ within the uncharted jungles of San Lorenzo, there was rumoured to exist a strange and ancient civilisation. A civilisation concealed from the world by mystical forces _unknown_ to modern man. A civilisation tirelessly pursued by both scholars and evildoers alike for its knowledge, and for its treasures. The civilisation," he paused for effect, "of the _Green-Eyed People_!" His smile widened a little at the round of appreciative 'ooh's and 'aah's he earned with his introduction; he was just warming up. And he had to hope that Arnold would show up at the right moment.

After all – a big reveal makes for one heck of a finale.

Meanwhile, as loud and crazed as things had been in the dining room, the atmosphere across the hall had started out quite the opposite. Quiet – _very_ quiet – and tense. On leaving his friends, Arnold and his parents had found themselves in a small, simple bedroom. The usual for a cheaper hotel; a pair of thin beds with metal frames, a simple wardrobe and dresser combo, a bulky, rabbit-eared television on a single shelf, and a single framed painting of a generic beach at sunset. A doorway led off to a small, unflashy bathroom, and the walls were painted in a colour somewhere between off-white and yellow, leaving the room looking confusingly bright and dull at the same time. Not the finest place for a huge, emotional reunion, but at least it was private... Then again, Arnold _had_ been kind of spoiled; not many people get to dramatically reconnect with their long-lost loved ones in beautiful, ancient jungle cities surrounded by butterflies. They had all entered together, the three Shortmans, and had wordlessly seated themselves on the nearest of the beds. It squeaked. What had then been turning into a drawn-out, nervous silence had finally broken by a strange, shrill sound echoing through the walls, coming from the other room. Whatever it was, it must have been deafening.

"...I don't even know what to say to them."

At his words, Miles' wife and child both looked to him, their faces concerned but understanding. He didn't meet their eyes. The man's hands were grasping and twisting at the fabric above his knees, so tightly that a weaker material might have torn. But Miles' outfit was reliable, his explorer's clothing some of the best money could buy, albeit a few years out of date. They had been so well-prepared.

"I don't either." Stella placed a hand over his, putting a stop to his agitated fretting. "But at least we _get_ to say something to them." He nodded, slightly, and she gave him a gentle nudge. "You know, if it helps, your hair looks _perfect_." That earned a soft chuckle, and he turned his hand to intertwine his fingers with her own.

Another silence.

"It was good, you know." Arnold finally spoke, anxiously fiddling with his thumbs. His parents turned to him, their expressions questioning. "It's been good. Growing up at the boarding house, I mean. With Grandma and Grandpa. They've always been so great." He actually smiled a little at that. It was so true. They were both pretty crazy in their own way, and sometimes that was hard. There were some things he'd had to learn and do for himself, plus a few things that he knew were missing, and sometimes that had been hard too. But they had raised him, and done everything they could for him, and he'd always felt loved. They had supported and been there for him when it counted, or at least done their level best to be. Yes, he'd always dreamed of finding his parents, but it was _never_ because his grandparents weren't good enough.

"I'll bet they were, son." Miles reached over to lightly tousle his boy's already-messy hair, his fingers lingering for a second over the tiny, blue hat. ' _They should never have needed to be. Not like that._ '

His hand and thoughts both froze at the sound of a gentle tapping at the door.

A look was exchanged, and final, nervous breaths were drawn. No-one in the room needed words to reach an agreement on which of them would answer. Arnold rose to his feet, his father's touch sliding limply away as he stood. Miles and Stella followed suit, their hands still clasped tightly, the bed creaking horribly to protest their sudden absence. Stepping across the room, Arnold gave one last look back – with a final nod and a small smile of encouragement from his mother, he turned the handle.

" _Arnold!_ "

Before he could breath, before he could even think, Arnold was being drawn through the doorway and hoisted into the air. Arms that by all rights should have been frail, but had never been less-so, pulled him into a tight hold. His grandma and grandpa, each hugging him with all the strength they had. Strangely, from the corner of his eye, he briefly thought he saw Eduardo moving at a pace away down the hall, but he had other things on his mind. He closed his eyes and smiled broadly, his own far shorter arms returning the embrace to both of them as best he could. For now, just for this moment, all nerves and worries were forgotten. It felt wonderful.

"Grandma! Grandpa! I can't believe you're here!" He finally found the words.

"Well of _course_ we're here! Oh, thank goodness you're ok, short man – you scared us half to death! And considering how close we were to begin with, that's really saying something..." His joke aside, Phil sounded as though he was breathing out for the first time in a long while.

"I know... I'm _so_ sorry."

"It doesn't matter, dear." Arnold pulled back to look at his grandma's beaming face while she spoke. He chuckled as she reached up to remove a green army helmet – because of _course_ his grandma had been wearing an army helmet. "What matters is that you're _safe_!"

"Um, Grandma, Grandpa." he paused to draw a deep breath, his heart pounding and stomach bubbling as he looked into their eyes, "Not just _me_."

"Eh? What do you-" Phil's words were cut off by the gentle sound of someone clearing their throat. Finally peering into the room beyond the doorway, both he and his wife's eyes fell upon the couple standing close by. A quiet voice spoke.

"Hi Mom. Hi Pop."

The arms that had been holding Arnold up suddenly started to shake, the boy gently being lowered to the ground. He looked up to see Phil's jaw hanging slack, his eyes bulging. Arnold's grandpa seemed to be afraid to blink.

"Wh... _Miles_? _S-Stella_? I- You're a-" His eyes became watery, and a hand shot upwards to cover his mouth.

Arnold gently pulled his grandparents a few steps into the room, their movements limp, allowing him to gently close the door behind them. He was watching his grandma carefully, with a small frown; he'd had a sudden, frightening thought. "Grandma, you... you know who this is, right?"

" _My boy..?_ " Gertie's words were whispered, as if too incredible be believed. Her helmet slipped from between loose fingers, and she reached out a hand in her son's direction. "Miles!" The woman moved as she cried out, her first unsteady step or two quickly turning into a frantic dash. Miles barely managed to open his arms and take his own shaky step forward before his mother crashed into him at full force, bringing him into a fierce hold. She clung to him as though she might never let go – Arnold thought he and _his_ mom probably looked similar the previous night. "Ohh, my _boy_! And Stella too!" The old woman finally pulled back, smiling hugely despite the tears on her face, just enough to place a gentle hand on the cheek of her daughter-in-law.

"Hey Mom." Stella released a broken giggle, one hand moving to cover Gertie's, the other hastily wiping her own eyes.

Phil, meanwhile, had finally regained his own ability to move, and he stumbled forward. Working around his wife, he placed a hand on both Miles and Stella's shoulders. He glanced desperately back and forth between them, speechless. Finally though, his wide eyes locked with his son's own anxious ones for several long moments.

"Holy Toledo, it's a _MIRACLE_!" Phil burst into elated laughter, a huge grin plastered across his face, and Miles couldn't help but follow suit. An instant later, Phil had done his best to wrap his long arms around the entire group – bouncing slightly, as if barely holding back the urge to dance. "I can't believe it! I never thought I'd see the day! How is this even-" He paused, suddenly turning to stare down at the boy standing close by. "Arnold – _you_ did this? You actually _found_ them?"

Arnold nodded rapidly, but beyond that, he could barely process how to react. For the first time that he could remember, he was looking at his _complete_ family, together at last. It was unreal. "I'm sorry I broke my promise to guys, but I-"

Phil cut him off with another laugh. "Well what are we gonna do, short man? _Ground ya_? You've done the impossible!" He turned back to Miles and Stella. "But... _nine years_!? Where in the heck have the two of you _been_?"

Miles' shamed expression quickly returned. "It's a long story, Pop. But... we got sick, same as the Green-Eyed People. The sleeping sickness."

"Oh dear..." Gertie's hand went to cover her mouth.

"The sleeping sickness?" Phil's jaw dropped all over again as he echoed the words. "You've been _asleep_ this whole time?" He seemed stunned, even more so when the two gave sombre nods of confirmation.

"Arnold saved us." Stella finally spoke, looking to her son with intense pride. "He and his friends found the Green Eyes' city, _and_ finished the cure. They saved all of us."

"We never meant for any of this to happen. We never even should have left." Miles hung his head. "I'm so sorry."

"Miles..." Gertie graciously stepped aside as Phil once again placed his hands on Miles' shoulders, his wrinkled brow furrowed. His grip was firm, like he was still trying to reassure himself that the figure of his son was real. Their eyes locked. "Son, you heard your mother back there. It doesn't matter. We know you never would have left if you thought for a second you wouldn't come back. We've _always_ known that. Whatever happened, happened. The important thing now is that you're both _safe_. Safe, and coming home at long last." His eyes suddenly widened, and he glanced quickly between his son and daughter-in-law. "You _are_ coming home, right?"

That broke the tension, Miles and Stella each releasing a breathless chuckle. Each nodded heartily before Miles spoke. "Yeah, Pop. We're coming home."

"Good." Phil's shoulder's sagged for a moment while he released a deep exhale. But then, quick as a flash, he released Miles' shoulders and pointed a finger. "'Cause unlike the short man, you two are both _grounded_!"

Arnold watched on as Phil's declaration brought on another round of laughter (much as the boy suspected his grandpa was dead serious), and the four adults shortly resumed their group embrace. For what felt like the millionth time that day, he tried to process the fact that all of this was real. But, vivid as Arnold's imagination could be, he would never have envisioned something like this; his parents being rescued from the heart of the jungle, his grandparents somehow appearing in San Lorenzo (he'd have to look into _that_ little mystery when they got a minute), and all of them being reunited in a cramped hotel room that smelled of dust. As far as he was concerned, it couldn't have been more perfect.

"What are you waiting for, Tex? Get in here!" His grandma's words snapped him out of his thoughts, the others chuckling at the faraway smile that had spread across the boy's face. Each of them was looking at him lovingly. With a laugh of his own, he happily ran forward to comply. It was long overdue. Three generations of Shortmans were together again, and they had a lot of lost time to make up for.

While Arnold was having the reunion of his dreams, back across the hall Gerald had been giving the performance of his life. His best friend was counting on him to keep the crowd at bay, after all, and that gave him all the excuse he needed to paint a long and detailed picture of their adventure. Not to mention, his mind was working at top speed while he talked to crop, tailor and edit the parts of the story that had been deemed 'Not for Public Use' by the Arnold and Helga censorship committee; an ornate, wide-headed statue removed here, a 'chosen one' redacted there. Oh well – somehow, knowing that it had hidden secrets too wild and bizarre for all but a select few to know made the legend seem even cooler. And there was still more than enough danger and excitement to work with.

And the reactions of his audience were tribute to Gerald's skill. They had gulped and shivered in apprehension while he described their careful navigation of the Green Eyes' traps. They had murmured their amazement as his words painted a picture of the astounding, hidden city, and of the mysterious children that lived there, its grown occupants having all been gripped by the power of a strange and devastating sickness. And they gasped, or even gave dramatic shrieks (thank you Olga and Sid...), as he recounted their frantic battle with the villainous pirate, their terrifying seconds spent dangling from the ruined bridge until Eduardo's timely rescue, and of course, Lasombra's final doom at the hands of his own greed. Also poison.

"S-so, Lasombra's really..? Y'know." Sid, sitting cross-legged, finally felt the need to interrupt – maybe for his own peace of mind – drawing a finger across his neck and making a drawn-out, strangled sound.

"Geez, you're safe, Sid." Helga rolled her eyes, her head resting on her fist. "The big, bad pirate's not gonna come after you, ok?"

"But are you _su_ -"

"We're _sure_ , alright man?" For the first time since the story began, Gerald sounded agitated, and not because he was interrupted. Well, not entirely. It hadn't been said out loud – not by him, not by Helga, not even by Arnold – but the reality of that whole encounter wasn't something he figured _any_ of them would spend a lot of time dwelling on. Lasombra's rabid red eyes and blotched, sickeningly green skin. The same tainted needle that caused all that being stabbed wildly in their direction. The way he just... fell.

The advantage of being the story _teller_ is getting to choose which parts you want to relive. And how.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Baby Sister." The words were practically whispered. Tears were filling Olga's eyes again, and her quivering lips were hidden behind a clenched hand. Her skin had turned a chalky pale somewhere around the point of Lasombra's sudden appearance in the Green Eyes' city.

"Yeah, well, I'm fine, he's fine," Helga waved a hand in Gerald's direction, "Arnold's fine, we're _all_ fine. So just... don't think about it, ok?" Olga didn't respond, which was worrying enough. Much like Gerald, Helga just wanted things to move on. She didn't like this part. "S-so are you actually gonna _finish_ the story, Geraldo? We're not getting any younger here."

"Yeah," Harold chimed in, his face expectant, "what happened to the Coro... The Coruh... The treasure thingy?"

"Right, well..." Gerald cleared his throat again, ready to get back on-track. And this was _definitely_ the time for one of those little 'amendments' to the story. "With Lasombra _defeated_ ," he shot Sid a sharp look, "we had finally succeeded in protecting the Corazón from his wicked clutches. With the precious treasure safely recovered," for a brief instant his eyes met with Helga's – she knew what he was doing, and he could see the relief, "we returned to the city in triumph. And _this_ time, we had Eduardo with us. Thanks to his knowledge of the ancient language of the Green-Eyed People, we were able to learn how to perform the ritual that would _finally_ disperse the cure. With the power of the Corazón, and by using an incredible, _gigantic_ , stone machine built into the very heart of the city, the medicine was transformed, creating a huge, thick cloud. At the same time, the roof of every building rolled aside, revealing the poor souls that had been lost to the sickness for so many years." He gave his head a theatrical shake. "All we could do was watch as the cloud started to rain the cure down over the city, and pray that it would work." He chose that moment to take a long pause, his hands behind his back and his eyes closed – he knew how to play the crowd.

" _And?_ Did it work or not!?" Rhonda was the first to break, throwing her arms in the air with exasperation.

"It worked." Gerald grinned widely again at the mass release of breath around the room (Helga, of course, just rolled her eyes), and for one other _very_ important reason. "All around the city, the adults started waking up. The children were reunited with their parents at long last. And just like that, the plague of the sleeping sickness had _finally_ been ended, and the civilisation of the Green Eyes could enjoy peace and happiness once more." He finished with a bow, keeping his last thoughts to himself. ' _And that's when things got REALLY freaky._ '

"Wait, surely that can't be everything!" Phoebe spoke up first, confused. "What about Arnold's, well..." She trailed off, suddenly wondering if the question was tactful.

"Well after all that, did the Green Eyes wind up knowin' anything about Arnold's folks or not?" Stinky apparently didn't share her concern, although he _did_ politely raise his hand, and neither did the various other kids who offered yet more ' _Yeah_ 's to the mix.

' _Man, I'm good!_ ' Gerald couldn't help but applaud himself before he answered.

"Ask him yourselves, guys."

As one, the audience turned – none of them, enthralled as they were, had heard the door open. Arnold stood there, and they all knew his grandparents well enough by now. But the other two...

"Hi everyone." Arnold gave a nervous wave, and a sheepish but _very_ excited smile. "Meet my mom and dad."

* * *

 **A/N I'm not sure why I feel that Gertie would have liked Stella to call her 'Mom'... I just do!**

 **So how did I do? Please take a moment to let me know in a review. Thanks again for reading!**


	15. Chapter 15 - An Intense Introduction

**A/N Well _that_ turned into a longer break than I expected! Sorry to keep you waiting, and I really hope this chapter is worth it! Thanks as always for all the amazing feedback since the last update, and thanks to those who got in touch to find out when this update would be posted. I hope you enjoy, and please take a moment to let me know if you do!**

 **On a side note, to celebrate this story getting over 100 reviews more than my first fic (not to mention about 20'000 words...), I finally took the time to go back and give A Pataki Christmas Carol a polish. Not a rewrite, just tidying up the small errors here and there that always bugged me. If you don't mind reading a story that's about as out-of-season as it could possibly get, please feel free to give it a look!**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 15 - An Intense Introduction**

It was a pretty funny sight. And at the same time it was a little unsettling, almost intimidating. A room full of children staring at them in stunned silence, wide eyed. The dropping of the group's jaws had been hilariously synchronised. Neither Miles nor Stella could help but feel as though they were on display, like they were some kind of inexplicable, alien oddity that had just crashed into the hotel. Honestly, they weren't sure if they wanted to gulp or giggle.

The truth, not that either of them had said it out loud, was that they were _nervous_. Nervous and excited all at once. And could they really be blamed? Gerald and Helga aside, this dining room full of kids was the first group of new people that they'd introduced themselves to in nearly a decade. Their first time being surrounded by a crowd that weren't Green-Eyed natives. But more than that, they were _Arnold's_ people – the people their son had actually grown up with. His friends. From the way he spoke earlier, each of them was clearly important to him, and each of them might well have known Arnold better than Miles and Stella knew their own son, at least for now. They felt an odd pressure to make a good first impression. How strange for a pair of grown adults to be so afraid of the judgement of children... The fact that Arnold was with them came as a big comfort. Helga and Gerald's presences were reassuring too, even if Helga _did_ look kind of uneasy for some reason... Familiar faces in an unfamiliar crowd. Given all this, it was Miles who hit on the realisation first, with a tiny cringe.

' _Oh God – it's like the first day of school..._ '

Arnold's shy introduction, 'meet my mom and dad', might as well have been a teacher introducing a pair of anxious new students to the class. ' _So everyone be_ extra _nice to Miles and Stella, and make sure they feel welcome!_ ' Cue spitballs. The notion made his decision easier – he gulped. And it didn't help at all that he could hear his own dad barely stifling a giggle behind him.

"Oh my goodness..." Phoebe was the first to recover, to a point. Her hand moved to cover her mouth as she spoke, her voice practically a whisper. She spared a questioning glance in her best friend's direction, her eyes widening even further at Helga's small smile and nod of confirmation.

Phoebe's words set off a ripple of similar murmurs and gasps through the crowd, and the children began to overcome their shocked paralysis. They slowly rose to their feet, each of them keeping their eyes glued to the new couple, their gazes a mixture of confusion and disbelief as they crossed the room towards their finally reunited friend. Privately, Gerald and Helga BOTH envied Arnold a little just then – their own welcomes from the group had been a good deal... rougher. Having the rug pulled out from under the mob by the surprise to end all surprises definitely seemed better than being tackled, shaken, crushed or otherwise manhandled. Heck, even _Curly_ had apparently been stunned into a state of (no doubt temporary) calm. It probably helped that Miles and Stella looked like a pair of awesome, battle-worn explorers straight out of an adventure novel – the only things missing were a couple of fedoras.

"Whillikers, Arnold – you really _found_ 'em?" Stinky was the first to address Arnold, placing a hand on the far shorter boy's shoulder.

"I don't get it." Harold scratched his head. "I thought Arnold's mom and dad were... Y'know..."

Rhonda gave the large boy's arm a very half-hearted swat, not even glancing in his direction. "Well apparently _not_ , Harold." She hissed in a low voice.

"This is like something out of a movie!" Eugene quietly breathed out. His eyes were glistening, his face beaming, and he just about managed to clasp his hands together despite his bonds.

"Don't start singing, Eugene..." Gerald warned, wearily shaking his head.

Arnold took all of this in with a widening smile. He didn't even know what to say. Honestly, he'd been afraid – afraid that his friends would still hate him for their imprisonment, afraid that they had been somehow hurt. But seeing them all safe and sound filled him with a relief that he could barely describe, and the way that they were staring at his parents with such blatant amazement was overwhelming. While he wouldn't like to admit it, Arnold couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest. Having caught the end of Gerald's newest legend, he knew the group had heard the incredible story, or at least most of it. But where to even begin from here?

He at least managed to answer Stinky with a rapid nod, his grin practically ear-to-ear by this point. He took a shaky, calming breath and looked over the group. "Guys, let me introduce you to my parents. M-Miles and Stella." He quickly added the last part and faltered a little, finding it weird to use his mom and dad's first names – this was brand new to him, after all, but it just seemed like the formal thing to do. "Mom, Dad, this is, uh, _everybody_." He gestured to the group, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck. Though his smile didn't fade, the reality of the task suddenly seemed a little harder to wrap his head around. How did people usually do this? Was he supposed to introduce people one by one, or..?

It was Stella who came to the rescue, steeling her nerves and stepping forward with a small chuckle – she hoped it didn't sound uneasy. "It's _very_ nice to meet you all. Arnold's been telling us about you. Let's see..." She tapped her lip and decided to start with the lanky boy who had first spoken to her son, turning to him with a kind smile. "I think you must be... Stinky, right?"

Stinky's mouth moved silently for a few short moments before he managed to form words. "Uh, y-yes ma'am, Stinky Peterson – pleasure to make your acquaintance." Stella laughed again as the young boy offered a gentlemanly hand for her to shake. His eyes widened when she actually accepted – she suspected that she'd just proven she wasn't a ghost.

"The pleasure's all ours." Miles chuckled too, his wife's confidence easing his anxiety. He moved to her side, accepting a handshake of his own. His other arm moved around Stella's shoulder, letting her be his mooring. With his words, and for the second time that day, a dam crumbled. As if freed from a spell, each of the remaining children broke from their dumbfounded trance, rushed forward and began excitedly racing to introduce themselves to the unbelievable newcomers. Only Gerald and Helga hung back, watching the scene with some amusement; Miles and Stella had suddenly found themselves swamped.

"Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, but _please_ call me Curly." The boy offered a bow and an unsettlingly large grin. Faced with his leaf skirt – and what appeared to be a spork holding up his hair – the couple honestly didn't know how to respond.

"I'm Eugene – oh, don't worry, I'm ok! Just a little 'off-colour', haha!" Miles, Stella and Arnold had all immediately given looks of shock at the ill-fated boy's condition. "My gosh, it's _wonderful_ to meet you – I'd shake your hands but, well..." He gave his bound hands a small wave and offered an apologetic shrug.

"Rhonda. Rhonda Wellington Lloyd." The girl did her best to put on her usual airs, current appearances aside. "Absolutely _charmed_ to meet you, and _so_ sorry to do it under these..." she glanced down at her outfit again, a hand semi-consciously travelling to the patch of exposed scalp on her head. Her lower lip trembled for a moment. "...conditions."

"Uh... Hey." Brainy, grinning and breathing heavily, offered them a small wave, which they awkwardly returned before he vanished back into the crowd.

One by one, faces were put to the names Arnold had described, and it wasn't long before Arnold's parents and the class of P.S.118 had become formally acquainted. Not to mention, Miles and Stella had now seen a small glimpse of each of the children's unique quirks. Some more extreme than others… It was quite an intense introduction to their son's world! But once Phoebe, last in line, had finished offering her own polite, awestruck greeting, Stella's attention was drawn to the unfamiliar woman who stood with the group. She turned to her, suddenly embarrassed to have given the children so much focus.

"Oh, I'm sorry – are you Arnold's teacher?" Stella managed to maintain her smile without bursting into giggles, despite the fact that the young woman had enough mascara streaked down her face to resemble tribal warpaint.

"Y-yes!" Olga shook herself slightly – she had been as stupefied as the rest of the group, her role utterly forgotten, until Stella's words reminded her of her responsibilities. Finding her composure, she stepped hastily forward, clearing her throat and offering Stella a hand. "Well, _student_ teacher. I'm Olga Pataki."

"Pataki?" Stella cocked her head in confusion for a moment as she accepted the shake, before looking back and forth between Olga and Helga. This woman certainly didn't seem old enough to be Helga's mother, and it didn't escape her notice that Helga had seemed strangely quiet up to now. Compared to what she'd seen of the girl in their brief time together, that is. Actually, Helga was looking more anxious than ever. "Are, uh..." With a small, worried frown, Stella tore her eyes away from the blonde girl, and back in Olga's direction. "Are you related to Helga?"

"Why, yes!" Olga's face immediately brightened, despite her confusion. She clasped her hands and shot Helga a saccharine smile. "Helga is my baby sister!"

"You're her sister?" Miles couldn't help but echo as he joined the conversation, his brow raised in surprise. He turned to the young girl. "Helga, you never mentioned that your sister was on this trip too."

"Must have slipped my mind." Helga offered through gritted teeth. She'd been bracing herself for this, not that it did much good. It may have been a step better than Arnold's parents meeting the _entire_ Pataki clan in one fell, possibly lethal swoop, but Olga could be plenty dangerous on her own. Helga could concede that her sister usually _meant_ well, but she also held a catalogue of just about every embarrassing moment from Helga's early years. And given her proven ability to cluelessly overshare from that _very same_ catalogue, Olga was basically the equivalent of an infant playing whack-a-mole next to a nuclear launch button... Besides, thanks to their brief period of isolation together, and by some act of divine intervention, Miles and Stella actually _liked_ Helga; the last thing the girl wanted was to start hearing _them_ compare her to Olga too.

"Oh. Well… I imagine that's understandable." A small look of hurt passed across Olga's face. "After all, I'm sure she was terribly scared and confused after everything that happened. Being lost in the jungle, and being attacked by that awful man, it must have all been so… so _horrible_!" The last word was a barely-decipherable, high-pitched squeak. Olga's eyes had started welling up again.

Miles and Stella shared a brief look while Olga tried to collect herself, their brows raised. Scared and confused? From what they'd seen, Helga was a little… _flighty_ for some reason, but neither of them would _ever_ have chosen those words to describe the girl. From what they'd been told, she hadn't even hesitated to charge into battle with Lasombra. Not to mention, she'd had the wherewithal to offer a suitable 'substitute' for the missing heart. She'd even helped practically frogmarch them to Eduardo's boat that very morning! Was this woman sure they were talking about the same person? And now her mascara was running again… A glance in Helga's direction saw the girl simply looking weary, her eyes closed and an arm folded, slowly massaging her temple with her fingers. She may have been mentally counting to ten.

"Sorry," Stella quickly pressed on, eager to try and snap the woman out of her small breakdown, "but did you say student teacher? Isn't the class' regular teacher with you too?"

"Ohh, that'd be the 'Amazing _Agenda_ Boy' over there." Phil answered for her, cutting in with a voice full of sarcasm and jerking a thumb towards Mr Simmons. Miles and Stella's jaws dropped all over again. The man was still seated at his table, unshaven and grinning madly, staring into space. His eye would twitch every now and then... But what really creeped Stella out was the way he kept blinking with one eye at a time – she'd always hated that.

"He can't say I didn't warn him." Phil continued, shaking his head at the sight, his hands on his hips. "Travel with a dozen kids and there's a 50:50 chance at least _one_ of 'em will get captured by pirates! Back in my day teachers knew to _expect_ that sort of thing... Anyway, he calmed down some after we convinced him to leave his troop of monkeys behind, but I'm waiting till he's more coherent to _really_ give him the 'I told you so'."

"That's... that's great, Pop." Miles rubbed his forehead – once again, he and his wife had been faced with something to which they just didn't know how to respond. But Arnold's teacher apparently needed a lot of therapy, and Miles _definitely_ wasn't going to press for more details about the monkeys... He tried to get back on track, seeing Olga finally drying her eyes. "Well, uh, in any case, it's nice to meet you Ms Pataki. Helga's made quite an impression on us!"

"She _has_?" Olga's still-damp face broke into a delighted – if slightly wobbly – smile. "That's so fantastic! Helga's usually has such trouble making-"

"TIME!" Helga practically screamed, suddenly appearing between the two parties. Anyone looking closely enough might have seen the girl's forehead starting to sweat. "Making _time_ to, uhh, meet new people! _So_ busy – school, sports, potentially lethal jungle adventures – you know how it is nowadays." She flinched. "Or… maybe you don't…" She fought to recover, mentally kicking herself. "But yep, Olga – Arnold's parents, Arnold's parents – Olga. _Lovely_ that everyone's been properly introduced!" Helga paused to breathe (a little too heavily), wearing a forced, desperate grin. The silence drew out for longer than was comfortable, and she was already getting plenty of concerned or curious looks from the group. This included Arnold – her words from outside were still very much with him, and he wished he could ease her discomfort.

"Aren't your mom and dad here too, Helga?" He at least tried to offer her an escape from the awkward moment, looking around as if Big Bob Pataki was an easy person to miss. "I thought we heard Mr Pataki… _talking_ back down the hall." He tactfully avoided more fitting terms, like 'roaring', 'bellowing' or 'erupting'.

Helga would never have guessed that Arnold bringing up the topic of Bob and Miriam of _all_ things could make her want to just kiss him... But instead, she nodded eagerly, deeply grateful for the chance to move the conversation along. "Uh, yeah, but they headed out. Something about getting us a ride home." She shrugged. "Guess they'll be back soon." Not _too_ soon, she had to hope.

"Well that's good." Stella tried another kind smile. "I'm sure it'll be great to meet them."

" _Pfft!_ " Phil instantly released a loud snort. He hastily cleared his throat. "Ahem! Heh, sorry about that." He gave his chest a couple of quick thumps. "Must be this tropical air."

"Gesundheit." Helga tried to contain the withering look she wanted to send in Arnold's grandpa's direction. "And yeah, it's sure to be a real blast..." She glanced away as she considered her poor choice of words. ' _A freaking blast alright – also known as an 'explosion', 'detonation', or 'demolition'!_ ' Helga mentally groaned – Miles and Stella had only been in the same room as the other people in her life for a couple of minutes, and her heart was already pounding. She'd made herself look like a lunatic once, and all _that_ took was about three sentences from Olga! Who knew how quickly she'd crumble once the _rest_ of P.S.118's resident circus act decided to open their mouths too? They were already watching this whole scene like it was some kind of surreal soap opera… No, the best course of action when there's a risk of explosion is to evacuate – usually in a calm and orderly fashion, but when all else fails, run for the hills and don't look back. She'd successfully done her part in buying Arnold his time, hadn't she? And now she deserved a break; an escape to let the attention move back to him and his parents, and away from any and all things Pataki-related. All she needed was an opportunity. And it needed to happen soon, before Miles or Stella could ask for more details about the _wonderful_ Bob and Miriam. Or before Olga could offer more choice revelations about Helga herself. _Or_ before her classmates could think to question why she'd gone a full two minutes without berating Arnold! Honestly, having all these anxieties flying around her head was like juggling mental chainsaws…

While Helga fretted, Arnold frowned in sympathy. He knew well enough that her parents could be difficult – he'd had more than a few run-ins with Big Bob, after all. He wanted to offer reassurance, some words of comfort, but with this many of their friends listening in, he had to assume that would just make Helga even _more_ uncomfortable. "Well anyway…" He instead chose to address the onlooking group; he suspected he had some explaining to do. "I know all of this must seem really strange, but I'm so happy that you guys are all safe. I feel terrible about what happened-"

"Arnold, Arnold, Arnold." Rhonda held up a hand and shook her head, stopping him in his tracks. Like the others, she'd been watching the exchange enthralled, unsure of what to say until now. Seeing Arnold's parents talking to Olga as if they were just _normal people_ was downright bizarre, and yes, on any other occasion Helga's odd behaviour may have warranted a comment, but right now there were more pressing matters to deal with. "Yes, we're all miraculously ok. Relatively speaking." She spared a quick, worried glance in Simmons' direction. "And yes, I'm sure you're _very_ sorry. That's all well and good. But get a sense of priorities – you just walked in here with your parents! Your actual _parents_! And you're going to stand there and call it _strange_?" She threw her arms up. "This. Is. Huge! You _have_ to tell us how this happened!"

Nadine winced at her best friend's increasingly loud and demanding tone, considering present company, and placed what she hoped was a calming hand on Rhonda's shoulder. She turned to Miles and Stella. "What Rhonda _means_ to say, uh… Mr and Mrs Shortman… is that it's kind of a _big_ surprise to see you." Her eyes widened. " _Here_ , I mean! To see you _here_. How, uh..? Where..?" She looked to her classmates, hoping for a rescue. The same question was written on each of their faces, but how to ask it tactfully? The truth was that none of them had assumed Arnold's mom and dad were still 'around'. He'd _always_ just had his grandparents, as far back as any of them had known him. Before this trip, Arnold had barely even talked about them! What on Earth had they been _doing_ this whole time?

" _Oooh_ , I got it! You were both asleep too, right?!" All eyes turned to Harold, who had suddenly burst into a wide, proud grin while excitedly pointing a finger in the couple's direction. He looked as though a lit bulb should have popped into existence over his head. But his smile faltered into a pout at the looks he was getting from his friends – a combination of dawning realisation and _deep_ surprise. "What? I mean, if they were helping the Green-Eyed People like Gerald said, and _they_ all fell asleep… Hey, _I_ can work stuff out too ya know!" He crossed his arms in a sulk.

"Whoa. Is that really what happened, Arnold?" The question had come from Sid, though the whole group turned back the football-headed boy with expectant faces.

"Yeah." Arnold nodded, looking up to exchange a regretful glance with his parents. "It was the sleeping sickness. But when we woke up the Green Eyes, we woke up my mom and dad too." Still meeting their eyes, a smile began pull at the corner of his lips. It felt good to say it out loud. He heard a ripple of amazed murmurs and 'wow's pass through the small crowd, each of his friends processing this latest revelation.

"That's _incredible_ , Arnold." Phoebe was beyond astounded. "To think that your parents were simply incapacitated here this whole time. To think this trip actually allowed you to _recover_ them!" Though it didn't seem appropriate to voice them at the time, the back of her scientific mind was already cranking out questions about the sleeping sickness itself. After that length of inactivity, how could Arnold's parents even _walk_? It was truly fascinating.

Eugene, meanwhile, sighed dreamily. "Being woken from a deep and endless sleep. Never mind a movie – this is like something out of a _fairy tale_!"

"Hey now," Gerald smirked, "am I the 'Keeper of all Fairy Tales'? I think we've established that this is a _legend_ , people."

"I reckon Gerald's right, Eugene, seein' how they was woken up by medicine instead of true love's kiss and all." Stinky mused, rubbing his chin. "Probably a good thing too – I don't see how it'd be supposed to work if _both_ the folks in love were asleep."

"Well if _my_ true love catches the sleeping sickness, I'll still be sure to give the kiss a try." Curly spoke, before leaning brazenly into Rhonda's personal space and wiggling his brows. "Care to practice, love muffin?"

" _Augh!_ " The girl was quick to push him back, with a look of disgust. "Not even in your _dreams_ you little creep!" She crossed her arms and scowled, muttering something under her breath about never sleeping again.

"Wait, _could_ we catch it? If you had the sleeping sickness this whole time, does that mean you're still contagious?" Sid questioned Arnold's parents, suddenly looking wary. His germ phobia may have been short-lived, but that didn't stop him from taking a less-than-subtle step backwards. Miles and Stella opened their mouths to speak, ready to give the boy their reassurance, but were cut off by Phil appearing at Miles' shoulder.

"Ooh, they're contagious alright! _Highly_ contagious!" He spread his arms wide, sounding frantic. "We've all been exposed already! We'll have to spend the next _ten years_ quarantined right here in this room, eating sterilised hospital food and getting hosed down twice a day by men in white hazmat suits! Well, me and Pookie probably won't last that long, but the rest of you better settle in – hope one of ya brought checkers!"

" _Grandpa!_ " Arnold immediately protested, as Sid fell to his knees with a horrified shriek. "None of that's true, Sid! They aren't contagious, they're _cured_! And the sickness didn't even affect kids, remember?" Unfortunately, the damage had been done.

" _I don't wanna eat hospital food!_ " Sid cried. Eugene's insistence that hospital food could be pretty tasty only seemed to make things worse.

"Was that really necessary?" Miles sent his father an admonishing look, while Arnold moved to his distraught friend's side. The old man had immediately burst into a fit of cackling laughter, clutching his knees.

Phil took a breath, wiping a tear from his eye, "Son, part of being old is embracing your ability to scare the living daylights out of the young." He shrugged. "Besides, I've been stuck in here bored and worried all day with your mother, and that squirrely kid makes it easy."

" _I had my travel checkers IN MY HAND and I left it at HOME!_ "

Miles could only wonder just whatever had possessed him to think the boarding house was a more stable environment to raise his son…

Meanwhile, as her classmates worked to try and console the traumatised Sid – or were at least busy shaking their heads at the display – Helga realised that the moment she'd been waiting for had arrived. She couldn't cause a scene with yet _another_ sudden vanishing act if Sid was already causing one, and most of the room was conveniently distracted. Even Miles and Phil were apparently busy debating the moral ethics of horrifying ten-year-olds. Perfect. And best of all, she could see a way to kill two birds with one stone.

Doing her best to remain casual, hands behind her back, she sidled up to her best friend. "Hey, now that I think about it, after that long trip back I could really use the restroom. Mind showing me where it is, Phoebe?" When the girl turned to her, she saw that Helga's eyes were wide, her expression subtly pleading.

" _Now?_ " Phoebe's mouth briefly hung open. One of the greatest bombs of their young lives had just dropped – Arnold's actual _parents –_ and Sid's theatrics aside, she really didn't feel like leaving the room! She quickly glanced back and forth between Helga and the couple. "B-but Helga, I- _Eek!_ " In an instant, Helga had seized the smaller girl's wrist and practically sprinted them towards the exit.

"Thanks Pheebs!"

The smaller girl's fraught voice briefly drifted back through, just before the door swung shut in their wake. " _Showing..!_ "

The handful of people that noticed the girls' abrupt departure could only blink for a few moments, with the exception of Gertie, who gave an amicable little wave towards the closed door. "Ta-ta, Eleanor!" She turned to the remaining women with a smile. "Such a busy young lady."

"Oh dear." Olga brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes filled with worry. "I hope all this excitement hasn't aggravated her gastrointestinal problem..." She murmured to herself, not nearly quietly enough – it was a mercy that Helga's classmates were preoccupied. But Stella's eyes, which had already been fairly wide thanks to Helga's latest escape, couldn't help but bulge for an instant. Between the fountain of tears and comments like _that_ , she was starting to connect a few dots…

"Ms Pataki? Um, Olga? Don't you think you ought to try and calm your student down?" She tried to draw the woman's attention back to the matter at hand. Olga _was_ apparently the class' main source of adult supervision, after all.

"Hmm?" Olga blinked before turning from the door "Oh. Yes – yes, of course…" _Her_ student? She looked to the group of children – they were dishevelled, exhausted, had nothing left but the (kindly donated) clothes on their backs, and were currently trying to help one of their own through a moderate panic attack. They had been through an inconceivable ordeal, forced to think and fight their way to freedom from a jungle prison. And her main contribution, as their teacher and guardian, had been to let Curly climb on her shoulders like a feral spider monkey. Oh, and to distract the guards… She hadn't even been able to protect her baby sister, let alone the rest of her class. Stella couldn't help but notice the expression that passed across Olga's face then – one of embarrassment, and more than a little shame.

"Are you alright?"

Again, Stella's words snapped Olga out of her thoughts. This time they had been quieter, and touched with genuine concern. "Yes, I'm fine. I just feel like I-" The woman caught herself, shaking her head slightly. Pushing her negativity down, she instead turned to Stella and Gertie with a smile – she was good at those. "It's just been a very long trip. Oh, Sid!" She finally hastened in the direction of the children. "Please calm down – I'm sure Mr Shortman was joking. Nobody's coming to hose you down. _No_ , Harold, we aren't all getting hospital food…"

In the end, Sid was finally calmed after Olga escorted him to a quiet corner. He _might_ have still needed time to recover from his small breakdown, or he might have simply been enjoying the way she comfortingly patted his hand. She did have to assert once or twice that, no – holding him wouldn't be appropriate. The rest of the group was finally able to return to normal conversation. Well, as 'normal' as the conversation could possibly be considering the circumstances. Arnold was quick to notice Helga's sudden absence of course – it was hardly surprising considering how uncomfortable she'd looked not long before – and he immediately noticed Phoebe's by extension. He suddenly found himself wondering just how much Helga would elect to share with her own best friend. It wasn't as if they'd discussed it while coming up with their 'party line', as Helga had called it. The truth was that it _did_ seem only fair that Phoebe be allowed into the loop; Arnold had Gerald after all, and with so much weighing on his mind, courtesy of the last few days, he was _extremely_ glad of it. Helga deserved the same. But he still couldn't help but be nervous at the idea of Phoebe getting the full story. Gerald had _been_ there; he'd seen the shrines and heard the chants, and he'd made it abundantly clear that _he_ could still barely believe it! How in the world was Phoebe supposed to hear the story second-hand without thinking they'd all gone insane? And even then, even besides _all_ the bizarre worship and mystical weirdness, there was still the great big _personal_ aspect of their adventure to consider. If there was anyone, anyone at all that Helga would tell about what happened between the two of them (and was in fact _still_ happening), it would surely be her best friend. Phoebe could be hearing the details at that very moment, specific details even _Gerald_ hadn't yet been made privy to, and that thought left Arnold feeling decidedly bashful…

But in the end, he decided, it was up to Helga. He trusted her, and if she trusted Phoebe, that had to be good enough.

Rather than dwell on it, Arnold instead listened in amazement to the story of his friends' own dramatic escape from Lasombra's encampment – Phoebe herself might not have been on-hand to describe the precise technical aspects this time, but Gerald made _very_ sure to emphasise how crucial her genius had been to the plan. And in return, Arnold described his own version of the previous day's incredible events, not that he shared Gerald's storytelling flair. It didn't stop his friends from sending a barrage of questions his way, and he answered honestly where he could. It was lucky that Gerald's redactions had been so thorough, considering Arnold's flimsy-at-best skills in the art of deception. And, as one might imagine given their sudden celebrity status, Arnold's parents received much the same treatment. The remaining children _clearly_ didn't share the trepidation Arnold had felt when it came to interrogating the couple.

"Did the Green-Eyed People have any native dances you could teach us?"

"If you were asleep, does that mean you haven't eaten in _nine whole years_?!"

"Have y'all ever swung across a ravine with a whip like that feller in the movies?"

"Have you seen many interesting insects during your travels? I found these just today!"

That last question had been accompanied by Nadine proudly presenting several of her precious jars; their various inhabitants crawled, skittered and waved their numerous legs and antennae in greeting. Miles and Stella both recoiled a little when they came face-to-face with a _particularly_ large and hairy eight-legged specimen.

" _Nadine_ , what did we agree about you shoving your bugs in people's faces?" Rhonda immediately swooped in to chastise her friend.

"Not to… Unless they're pirates." Nadine withdrew the jar, looking sheepish. The last part of the rule had been a recent, mutually agreed-upon amendment. She looked back up to Miles and Stella. "I'm sorry. Do you not like spiders?"

"Oh no, it's ok!" Stella quickly waved her hands – they hadn't meant to put the enthusiastic girl out. "It's just that we had an experience a few years ago that was kind of… offputting."

"Yeesh." Miles closed his eyes and shuddered at the memory. "Who the heck makes a Temple of the Sacred Spider, anyway? There must have been thousands of them in there. _Millions_ , maybe." He and his wife shared a grimace. Suddenly though, he felt a tug at his sleeve – turning back, he saw that Nadine was clenching at his arm. Her eyes were huge, and her jaw was hanging open. She was practically drooling…

"Tell me _where_!" Her voice came out as an awed whisper.

"Uhh… A couple of hundred miles back-" Miles stopped abruptly when his eyes fell on Rhonda, who was frantically waving her hands and mouthing the word 'no' behind her best friend's back. Getting the budding entomologist to leave San Lorenzo was going to be challenging enough as it was! He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "You know what? It was so long ago that I can't quite remember. Sorry…"

"Really?" Nadine's face fell. "Are you-"

"There, there, Nadine." Rhonda quickly placed an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Just think – when we get home, we can go to that place in the park you love so much! The spot with all the fallen logs? You know how many… _delightful_ little creatures you always find under there." She pulled Nadine away and began leading her back to her seat, sparing a moment to send an embarrassed grin back in Miles and Stella's direction and mouth the word 'sorry'.

"B-but… But _millions_ of them..!" Nadine mumbled as she sat back down – apparently the notion left her downright dazed. Rhonda could do nothing but gently rub her best friend's back and let her ride it out…

The rest of the small group had been watching the whole exchange with raised brows. No-one was sure, for a while, how to react. It was Stinky, though, who finally turned to Arnold with an impressed smile.

"Wow, Arnold – your folks are so exciting that they've done broke Sid _and_ Nadine! I bet you're pleased as punch to get them back."

Arnold wasn't too sure that he agreed with Stinky's logic… All the same, the boy was very right. "It feels amazing, Stinky." He nodded. "I can't even describe it! It's like this bad feeling I always sort of had, like something was always missing, is just _gone_ now." Arnold flushed – he hoped that hadn't sounded too sappy. All the same, he was smiling. "It feels really, really great."

Fortunately, Stinky simply nodded, looking thoughtful. "Well that makes sense. I reckon the rest of us all felt about the same when the three of _you_ went missing. Having us all back together feels pretty darn sweet!"

"Really? You guys were all that worried about us?" Considering the way they'd had to leave, and _especially_ considering the way things had been beforehand, the idea made Arnold feel gratified and guilty all at once.

"Even Helga?" Gerald couldn't help but add on the joke. It earned a small glare from his best friend. "Sorry…"

"Well of _course_ , guys!" Eugene brightly responded. "We're a tribe, after all! We were all worried sick about you, and we're all _so_ relieved that you're back safe and sound. You know, poor Harold was _particularly_ inconsolable while you were gone, Arnold. He missed you terribly." He sent a caring, sympathetic look in the older boy's direction.

"Hey, I did not!" Harold immediately denied, turning away with a blush.

"Oh yeah?" Gerald quirked a brow, a playful smirk on his face. "What's that over there?" He jerked a thumb in the direction of the bizarre scarecrow that stood in the corner; a more physical than usual elephant in the room.

"Nothin'…"

"Kinda looks like Arnold, man." Gerald pressed on.

"No it doesn't!" Harold protested.

"Is… is its head a watermelon?" Arnold queried, tilting his head as he took in the strange likeness. It didn't have the same ornate touches as the Green Eyes' numerous shrines, but it was still pretty odd.

"Uhh… maybe?" The question seemed to only increase Harold's embarrassment.

"Why are there bites out of the watermelon, Harold?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as each of the other boys turned their gaze towards Harold, waiting for his answer. He was determinedly avoiding meeting their eyes.

"Yeah, Harold. Why are there bites out of Melon Arnold?" Gerald finally echoed the question.

"…I was _hungry_ …" Hearing the boy's eventual muttered response, Gerald briefly thought about asking whether the bites were taken _before_ or _after_ the large fruit became a tribute to his best friend's head, but he figured the answer would only trouble him further.

"He's been kneeling in front of it all morning." Curly revealed from his latest table, his head resting on his fist.

"I have not!" The large boy quickly wheeled back round, and tried a menacing look.

"And crying!" Curly added, undeterred.

"I have _not_!" Harold repeated, waving a warning fist in the other boy's direction. He was just about at breaking point, and his voice showed it. "I didn't care at all that Arnold and the other guys were missing, or that that jerk Lasombra was after them, _or_ that I might've never seen them again! I just made that dumb melon thing 'cause… 'cause…" He trailed off, a suitable answer eluding him. His lip was shaking.

"It's ok, Harold!" Eugene reassured, doing his best to pat his friend's back despite his bindings. "There's absolutely nothing shameful about showing your softer side."

" _Aaaaww!_ " With a cry, Harold finally snapped. Jumping to his feet, he rushed forward and pulled Arnold up into a very unexpected and decidedly bone-crushing hug. His eyes were tightly closed, and tearful. " _If you ever scare me like that again, I'll POUND ya!_ "

"O-ok, Harold," Arnold managed to choke out, despite the sudden lack of air, "I promise." He was deeply touched by his friend's concern, really. He'd just be more touched when he could draw breath again. Eventually, to Arnold's relief, he was gently lowered to the ground. Harold's large arms released their grip, though the boy was still sniffling.

"Feel better now, buddy?" Gerald kindly asked from the sidelines.

"Yeah…" A few more sniffles, and Harold used an arm to wipe his running nose. There was another brief, awkward pause, until Gerald spoke up again.

"Do you wanna go eat the rest of Melon Arnold?"

"…Yeah."

With that, Harold hastily moved off in the direction of the now-doomed little scarecrow. Arnold was left to catch his breath, check for any broken ribs, and wonder just how this day could get any stranger. Looking around the room, he tried to process how what he was seeing could ever have been possible. Reuniting with his parents had been a dream – one he'd had regularly throughout his life – and suddenly, here they were. His dad was a few feet away, shyly asking Gertie whether they could have his favourite raspberry cobbler on their return to Hillwood (she heartily agreed, smiling menacingly at her husband all the while). His mom was across the room, giving Rhonda tips on how to keep one's hair manageable in even the most humid of climates. He had wondered whether he'd ever see his friends again, and wasn't sure they'd _want_ to see him if he did, and now they were all around him, happy, laughing and joking together. Watching his family and classmates interacting was like fantasy and reality impossibly blending into one. And to cap it all, his lifelong bully and alleged _soulmate_ was somewhere down the hall, probably giving her best friend a long and detailed breakdown of how he'd declared his love to her. Oh, and that they were great and powerful super-spirits that a secretive Central American culture worship as gods on Earth... He couldn't help but blink and shake his head – hadn't this all started with a video contest?! It was only when a large, sticky hand tapped him on the shoulder that he was able to snap out of his zoned-out state, and Arnold turned to see Harold grinning widely. His mouth and cheeks were coated with pink juice and dotted with black seeds, and he held out what was now about twenty percent of a watermelon in Arnold's direction.

"Want some?"

It turned out Melon Arnold was pretty tasty so long as Original Arnold didn't think about it too much.

And, as it happened, his timing hadn't been too far off. As soon as the door to the dining room had closed, and with her best friend firmly in tow, Helga had marched determinedly down the otherwise empty hallway. She didn't exactly have a destination in mind, but she'd know it when she saw it. She was silent, save for the sounds of her rapid footfalls.

"Uh, Helga?" Phoebe struggled to keep up, even if she _was_ being pulled. "The lavatory was back in the other direction."

The blonde girl gave no response, and didn't slow her stride one bit. At least, not until she finally found what she was looking for; a closet. Seeing the door standing ajar, Helga finally came to a halt, gently pushing it to peer carefully into the tiny room behind. Though it was fairly small, and decidedly dark, she was able to take in the familiar sight of mops, brooms and vacuum cleaners lining the walls. The shelves were stacked high with cleaning tools and bottled chemicals, just like home. And _also_ just like home, there was even a small desk (well, a fold-out table, really), strewn with discarded papers and glossy, magazines with Spanish titles, as well as a battered, old swivel chair. A perfect location to set up Helga G. Pataki's first international office. Leaning back into the hall to ensure the coast was clear, she finally ushered Phoebe into her newly-found sanctuary, and promptly closed the door behind them.

"Helga? I apologise for making such an obvious observation, but this isn't the bathroom." Phoebe spoke after a brief, confused pause.

"I know, Pheebs, I know." Helga began a little breathlessly as she fumbled for a light switch. "But there's something I need to-"

Helga's words came to an abrupt halt. Because once again, _somehow_ , like almost _every other time_ , she heard it. That slow, steady, rasping wheeze, this time emanating from the small room's farthest and most shadowy corner.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

With a low growl of anger and disbelief, Helga finally found and pulled on the dangling light switch, casting a dim, halogen glow through the place. And there he was, just standing there in the corner, grin on his face. Phoebe gave a small, surprised jump. But Helga – far too numb to this particular brand of weirdness by now – just seethed, clenched her fists, and tried very, _very_ hard to keep her tone level. Quite a challenge considering how on-edge her nerves had already been.

"Why were you just standing here alone in a darkened storeroom, Brainy?" She didn't know why she even bothered – they'd been through this enough times for her to know the answer.

"Uh… I dunno…"

Helga rubbed her forehead in an attempt to stave off any oncoming migraines, and gritted her teeth. "Look, I think we _both_ know that I kind of owe you one, and I've got a _lot_ on my mind right now, so I'd honestly rather _not_ sock you to kingdom come this time." She moved purposefully forward, and placed a hand on the boy's back to guide him firmly towards the door. "Not to mention, I'd rather not have this conversation with Phoebe with you lying unconscious in the corner. So for now, just get the heck out of here and rest assured that normal service will resume next time. _Got it?_ " She didn't bother waiting for a response; who knew whether one was coming anyway? Instead, she swiftly threw the door open once more, this time giving the boy a hearty shove _out_. It was a little rough, but it was certainly gentler than her usual treatment, and door once again slammed in his wake. For a moment, Brainy stood alone in the hallway. Unexpectedly though, the door creaked open one final time, just enough for a blonde, pigtailed head to poke out and glance in his direction.

"And… y'know… Thanks, Brainy."

As the girl disappeared, the door closing a final time, Brainy continued to stand as he'd done before. His eyes were wide, though, and his mouth briefly hung open. But soon enough, his grin returned, and he made his way back down the hall with a low, happy chuckle.

Back in the storeroom, Phoebe found herself staring at her best friend's back. In the absence of Brainy's heavy, rasping breaths, the room suddenly felt eerily quiet; she wished Helga would just say something.

"Um, disregarding Brainy's unexpected presence, I'm still a little confused, Helga. Is everything alright?" This was by no means Phoebe's first rodeo, and that meant the girl's next question came easily. "Is this Ice Cream related?"

When Helga turned, Phoebe felt as though she saw an entire range of emotions warring with each other behind her best friend's eyes; there was definitely fear, worry and apprehension, without a doubt. But winning out by far was excitement. Lots and lots of excitement. In an instant, the girl had tightly seized Phoebe's shoulders, bringing her face so close that their noses were touching. And it was then that Helga finally spoke.

" _IT WORKED!_ "

* * *

 **A/N Melon Arnold, we hardly knew ye.**


	16. Chapter 16 - Say It Out Loud

**A/N So, would you believe I was helping this secretive Central American culture overcome a deadly disease, and the next thing I knew, I'd been asleep for two months? I figure it could have been _way_ worse... No?**

 **Apologies to everyone who's been waiting for this update - some of you already know that a change in my routine has cut my writing time way down. I'll do my best to keep up the pace! Until then, I hope this chapter proves to be worth the wait (again...), and my usual huge thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last time.**

* * *

 **SILENCING NATURE**

 **Chapter 16 - Say It Out Loud**

The dim light of the storeroom made Helga's eyes seem even brighter, especially from this distance. Phoebe concluded that her prior observation, while not necessarily wrong, had fallen a little short. The war of emotions behind those eyes was escalating. Actually, it seemed to be approaching a full-blown thermonuclear conflict! Phoebe was by no means a stranger to Helga's frequent explosions – being her best friend generally meant that she was responsible for defusing half of them, or that she'd otherwise find herself standing right at ground zero – but she wasn't sure she could recall _ever_ seeing Helga quite this charged. Her breath was hitched, and her forehead looked sweaty. Her hands, Phoebe suspected, were clammy too, though they were presently clenched tightly at the smaller girl's shirt. Anyone else might have been terrified of an imminent visit from Ol' Betsy… But this wasn't anger. It wasn't panic either, at least not quite yet. Phoebe knew perfectly well that Helga internalised a great deal of her feelings – a vaguely superhuman feat, based on how strong some of Helga's emotions could apparently be – and this, whatever _this_ was, appeared to be the result of something very, very big forcing its way to the surface.

Scratch that. Considering Helga had gone to the trouble of 'excusing' them from the dining room, dragging them down the hallway and sequestering them in an oversized broom closet, Phoebe had to conclude that 'something very, very big' was about to be released _voluntarily_. It was exceptionally rare that Helga was willing to share, and that alone gave a hint to the gravity of whatever was coming. But exciting and daunting as that concept was, Phoebe had one bigger, pressing concern.

"Helga, I believe you're crushing my septum…"

"Whuh?" Phoebe would never have guessed that Helga's eyes could get even wider, but she managed it somehow for a brief instant. "Oh! S-sorry." Releasing her steel grip, Helga took a step back, leaving Phoebe to give her sore nose a comforting rub. The separation might have drained _some_ of the intensity from the moment, but the blonde girl didn't miss a beat before beginning to pace back and forth.

"Thank you. Now could you please elaborate? _What_ worked?" Phoebe removed her glasses while she spoke, doing her best to clean them with the hem of her shirt – Helga had steamed up the lenses.

" _THIS!_ " Helga threw her arms wide, not even glancing in her best friend's direction. Her sudden volume caused Phoebe to jolt, the spectacles almost clattering to the floor – she scrambled to get them back into their proper position before she could find herself half-blind and a few thousand miles away from her optometrist, while Helga continued her frantic steps. "This trip! This whole, cockamamie, 'let's get Arnold to San Lorenzo so he can find out what happened to his missing parents' _scheme_! Phoebe, it actually _worked_!"

"Ah." Phoebe nodded, smiling. "Well, certainly I agree. Given that Arnold actually _located_ his parents as a result of this excursion, _alive_ no less, I'd have to say things turned out even better than we could have hoped! I'm sure he must be exceedingly grateful."

"Oh, you have _no_ idea…" Helga muttered, before releasing a short burst of giggles. But then she quickly shook her head, waving a hand almost dismissively, much to Phoebe's surprise. "I-I mean, _yeah_ , of course! Arnold actually got back the long-lost family he's apparently been pining for his entire life. It's fantastic, incredible, magical. Hey, couldn't happen to a nicer guy, right?" She shot Phoebe a quick, fraught smile. "But that's not what I'm talking about, Pheebs. Oh-ho, no – I'm talking about the fact that for once, just for _once_ in my cruddy life, something actually, finally worked out for _ME_!" She came to an abrupt halt as she finished, wheeling round to face her friend, eagerly gesturing to herself as though this revelation should have given Phoebe all the information she needed.

And in truth, Phoebe _could_ see one particular conclusion that might be drawn from Helga's rambling. A conclusion that, quite conveniently, could be described _precisely_ as 'something very, very big'. Colossal, actually. But the thing to remember about conclusions like that is to be extremely wary of jumping to them too quickly. It can be dangerous to assume, especially when being wrong would be such a crushing disappointment. Still, she felt her heartrate quicken.

"Um, when you say that it 'worked out' for you," Phoebe began slowly and carefully, "are you simply acknowledging that you've managed to return from your adventure without suffering any serious injuries?" She started with what seemed like the most obvious answer.

Helga responded with another slow shake of her head. "Definitely a major bonus, but _no_ , that's _not_ what I'm talking about." She nervously tapped her fingers together.

Phoebe gulped, her mouth suddenly feeling a little dry. "Are you referring to the fact that your actions during this trip have been significantly more impressive and noteworthy than Olga's?" It was a well-founded guess – few things left Helga feeling more gratified than getting one up on her sister.

"Hey, n-nice of you to say, Pheebs." Helga's body seemed completely on-edge, like half of her wanted to break into song and dance while the other half ran away screaming… "But nope."

"Did… did you perhaps locate some sort of valuable treasure..?" A decidedly more farfetched suggestion; it seemed pretty unlikely that Helga could be concealing a king's ransom of gold and jewels in the pockets of her cargo shorts… Phoebe's voice had been growing quieter, but the hopeful feeling in her chest had been increasing just as steadily.

"Well yeah, but it fell off a cliff." A shrug, another quick, dismissive wave. As far as Helga was concerned, compared to what she'd _actually_ won, the golden, glowing Corazón wasn't worth a bean.

"I… see." Phoebe quirked a brow – that was probably a topic for later. But for now, her alternatives exhausted, the time had apparently come to ask the biggest question of all. Phoebe took a deep breath, mentally crossing her fingers (and toes for good measure), before looking her best friend straight in the eye. When she spoke again, her voice was a just above a whisper.

"Helga, are you saying something _happened_ between you and Ice Cream?"

The only response Helga could offer was a nod, her brow furrowing and the corners of her mouth twitching up into an extremely anxious smile.

A tiny "Oh!" managed to escape Phoebe's lips before her hands could finish their journey to her mouth, covering it tightly. Her eyes widened, and she felt them begin to prickle and fill with moisture – while it was rare for Phoebe Heyerdahl to be moved to tears, it could happen when the situation _really_ called for it. But just as she was beginning to tremble, Helga darted forward and reaffirmed her grasp on the smaller girl's shoulders, shaking her as gently as she could manage.

" _Phoebe!_ I know, ok? Believe me, I get it! But I _need_ you to keep it together here. Don't freak out!" Her eyes were pleading again.

"W-why not?" Phoebe could barely process her thoughts, and that was saying something.

"Because _I'M_ freaking out!" Helga released her grip, if only to pull on her own hair.

"Given the circumstances, couldn't we _both_ freak out?"

"Absolutely not, for two very good reasons. Number _one_ ," Helga dramatically raised a finger, "something _happened_ last night. Or… _several_ somethings. Things so unbelievably amazing but so completely, impossibly _nuts_ that I can barely even _think_ about most of it without passing out at this point. But I'm about two hundred pinches in and I'm still not convinced that this isn't just some cruel, half-starved hallucination I'm having when _actually_ we're all still sitting in pirate jail waiting to see if Harold or Curly is the first to take up cannibalism – which, believe me, sounds _way_ more likely that what I'm supposed to believe _actually_ happened – so I need you to _calmly_ help me convince myself that this could actually be _real_. And number _two_ ," a second finger joined the first, "I'm pretty sure that my legs are gonna give out soon, and that means _you_ _can't_ freak out too, because we've only got one chair!" She finished, gesturing wildly to the room's lone seat.

Phoebe briefly considered suggesting that the table standing nearby might also be sat upon if need be, but she thought better of it. Instead she quickly nodded, trying her best to contain her excitement. All the same, her hand shook slightly as she went to move her glasses once more, this time to gently wipe some of the lingering wetness away from behind them, and her voice couldn't help but quaver when she spoke.

"Well, first of all, I can assure you that this is quite real; we are most certainly _not_ still trapped in Lasombra's encampment, and none of our friends are planning to consume us for sustenance." She decided to withhold her opinion on who just who _would_ snap first in that scenario – Harold's behaviour with that melon had been a little concerning.

"Exactly what a hallucination would say!" Helga pointed an accusatory finger, still looking slightly crazed.

"But more importantly," Phoebe chose to disregard the comment, "Helga, this is such _wonderful_ news! Surely this is precisely what you wanted!" Her face lit up with understanding as she thought back to Helga's odd behaviour in front of their group; their abrupt departure suddenly made more sense. "Is this why you became so agitated in the dining room?" Unfortunately, the very mention of the dining room seemed to push the blonde girl closer to panic.

"Well, _doi_! I was doing just _fine_ right up until the newly-discovered _Shortman tribe_ went and made their grand entrance!" Helga slumped back against the door with a thump, one hand on her head and the other clenched tightly at her chest. "Hey, never mind that I narrowly avoided a violent _death_ a bunch of times yesterday, or the fact that I spent last night sleeping on a _rock_ in the middle of some mythical _jungle city_ after having the single most unreal night of my entire life – I've just spent my morning stuck on a delightful hike-slash- _riverboat cruise_ with Arnold and his ridiculously cool jungle explorer _parents_ , who not only _exist_ all of a sudden but who apparently, somehow, actually _LIKE_ me, if you can believe that, except that right now they're down the hall, living it up and swapping stories with around a dozen people who could let slip at _any moment_ that I've spent most of their time away making their beloved son's live a living _heck_ , not to mention _OLGA_ , who's probably _already_ taken this opportunity to casually drop the kind of humiliating factoid about me that anyone with a _normally_ -functioning brain would only ever use to blackmail their worst enemy!" She spared a moment to shudder at the idea. "So _obviously_ I had to get out of there before I could make myself look like even more of a psychotic freak than I have already, but now I'm stuck knowing that sooner rather than later, on top of everything _else_ I've got to mentally and emotionally deal with thanks to the last twenty-four hours, I'm gonna have to go _back_ in there to try and preserve whatever burning _shreds_ of my reputation are left, while simultaneously trying to work out how to keep _Arnold_ from deciding that what happened with us wasn't just the single biggest mistake of his entire life, his _parents_ from hearing something that's going to make them want to take out a _restraining order_ against me, and our idiot _classmates_ from tearing me apart if they get wind of _ANY_ of this! _OH!_ " She threw her hands in the air. "And all ideally before _Big Bob_ and _Miriam_ show up again to give them all some more of that good old, award-winning _PATAKI TREATMENT_!" She paused, left panting by her own rant. Her voice was ragged when she continued. "So you know what? _Yes_ , Phoebe; the dining room was making me feel _agitated_."

At some point during Helga's speech, Phoebe's eyes had grown wide again – partially due to shock at Helga's impassioned tirade, but perhaps more due to her friend's particular choice of words.

"That certainly is… rather a lot to process." Her words caused Helga's shoulders to slump, a response coming through gritted teeth.

"Ya think!?"

"However, if I might infer a positive," Phoebe offered a hopeful smile, "I take it that means Arnold does _not_ presently consider whatever happened between the two of you to have been a mistake?"

Helga immediately opened her mouth to deliver another 'enthusiastic' retort, but her best friend's pinpoint observation rang true. Instead, she turned her gaze to her feet. "It… doesn't _seem_ like it." She conceded after a pause. Saying it out loud, and knowing at least on _some_ level that it was true, made her stomach either flutter or churn. Maybe both at the same time, which was just downright confusing… It flew in the face of everything she had come to expect from her life! Trying to ignore the swarm of screeching anxieties that had amassed in her head since reuniting with their group, she instead thought back to Arnold's words before they entered the hotel. How he had spoken to her with such soft reassurance and understanding. She recalled the feeling of his thumbs gently ghosting over the backs of her hands, the memory alone causing her cheeks to grow warm… She shook her head. "But I figure that just makes it even _more_ likely that I'm dreaming up this whole thing!"

Phoebe, whose smile had become slightly wider on hearing Helga's reply, gave her a look that was both sympathetic and teasing, her hands on her hips. "Well I could always slap you, if you believe it would prove you're not imagining things."

"Nah, tried that already." Phoebe's efforts earned a weak smirk. "I dunno – if this isn't all in my head, how about you tell me something I don't already know?"

"I think you realise that doesn't make sense…" Phoebe reasoned. Seeing her friend merely shrug, she released a slightly weary sigh. "Banging your head against a wall expends approximately 150 calories an hour."

"Huh, no kidding?"

From the look on Helga's face, Phoebe could tell that hadn't done much good… She finally decided to be blunt. "Helga, perhaps I could help you more if you actually _told_ me what happened."

Helga blinked on hearing this, then gave a hesitant nod. Sure, leaving the dining room was more an emergency evacuation than anything else, but that _was_ why she dragged Phoebe along for the ride, wasn't it? Away from prying eyes and listening ears. Hadn't she been waiting for this all morning? She needed to say it out loud to _somebody_ for the sake of her sanity, and Dr Bliss was half a continent and one pre-scheduled appointment away. But now that it finally came to it, her mouth suddenly felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. It was rapidly dawning on her that she'd yanked Phoebe aside and marched them down here full of fire, but without anything remotely resembling a 'plan'.

"It's all been _so_ crazy, Pheebs. And there's so _much_ , I… I don't even know where to start!"

Phoebe tried not to roll her eyes. "You know, I _have_ already been informed that you spent the last day in the company of a hidden society of jungle children. Are you really suggesting that the circumstances of whatever happened are stranger than _that_?" It was meant to be a rhetorical question – Phoebe had thought she was making a reassuring, logical point. But her brow raised when Helga just anxiously bit her lip in response. "Oh… Well then… If the circumstances are really that peculiar, maybe it would be easier to start with the bottom line. If I may ask, what is the present, uh, _status_ of things between you and Arnold?"

Helga wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan. The bottom line? Their 'status'? Of all the last day's nonsense, that seemed like the craziest thing of all! Well, _maybe_ that was an exaggeration – probably depending on whether you asked her or Tiukwí… In any case, she couldn't deny that it made sense to start simple. When she tried to form the words, though, they seemed to catch in the back of her throat, and clearing it didn't help.

"Well, w-we, uh… Arnold, he…"

The room was starting to feel warmer all of a sudden, and had it always been so cramped in there? Helga scowled at herself. Three short, simple words; why was it so stupidly hard to just _say_ them? She pretty much wanted to shout them from the rooftops, so spitting it out in the privacy of a nice, quiet room to her _best friend_ should be a cinch! And hey, just because even _thinking_ the words made her head feel hot and fuzzy, and her heart feel like it could burst, that was probably no reason to be apprehensive, right..? In any case, something was holding them back, and the more she tried to force them out, the more her chest seemed to tighten in protest. But it was then that she felt a small, gentle hand take her arm, pulling her, and she found herself being guided to what had been now been designated the 'freak-out chair'. The battered old thing groaned and complained, even under Helga's slight weight, and coughed up a thin cloud of dust to hang in the still air, but it was a comfort all the same. Phoebe didn't need to say or do anything more – she simply stood close by, patiently watching and waiting.

"Ok. Ok…" Helga at last managed to begin, with forced calm. Her gaze remained firmly fixed on her hands, which sat tightly balled in her lap. "So, first off… he knows. Arnold is officially aware that I… y'know… love him." She instantly heard a soft gasp escape her best friend's throat and couldn't help but lift her head, raising an inquisitive brow.

"I'm sorry." Phoebe murmured. "It's just that in all this time, even with everything we've done, you've never actually said it out loud before. Not to me, at least." And not awake – she tended to discount the pork rind incident. "Anytime we've discussed your actual feelings on the subject, it's always just been your 'Deepest, Darkest Secret' and…"

"Ice Cream?" Helga offered, looking sheepish.

"Ice Cream." Phoebe concurred with a smile of her own. "I noticed earlier that our codename had apparently become redundant. I'm pleased it wasn't just a slip of the tongue. So, _Arnold_ is finally aware of your true feelings. And..?" She held her breath – she hoped so badly that there was an 'and'.

Helga swallowed hard. Her heart was racing. "A-and… heh, wouldn't you know it… he apparently f-feels the same way."

This time, Phoebe gasped louder – the answer had been more than she expected, more than she had even hoped for. "The _same_ way?" She pressed, looking for clarity, not even realising that she was eagerly leaning forward. Her hands were clasped at her chest.

"Yeah, Pheebs." A grin finally began to grow on Helga's lips, hesitantly, almost reluctantly, but inevitably creeping in at the edges. "He _loves_ me."

A delighted cry broke through Phoebe's usual composure before she could even speak. This time it was her turn to dart forward and grip _Helga's_ shoulders, her face beaming, and frankly she was probably a little rougher in her excitement than her friend had been! "He _LOVES_ you?!" She couldn't help but echo the words in astonishment, the shout seeming all the louder in their close surroundings. But she was quick to get a hold of herself – she _had_ agreed to try and stay calm for Helga's sake – and she took a small, hasty step back, clearing her throat and flushed with embarrassment. Still, her smile didn't shrink – she was actually finding it a challenge to hold back her giggles. "Sorry. But oh my gosh, _Helga_! This is u-" She only _just_ caught the word 'unbelievable' on the tip of her tongue before it escaped – given Helga's current state of mind, it didn't seem like a smart choice of words. "This is utterly _incredible_! He really loves you back?"

But whether Helga had even registered Phoebe's sudden embrace was debateable; her grin had quickly become huge, her expression spacey. The excitement Phoebe had seen in her eyes when they first entered was rushing back with a vengeance.

Ever open a shaken soda can?

"What, did I _stutter_? He loves me, ok!? Arnold loves me!" It was the first time she'd said _those_ words out loud too, and they felt strange and alien on her tongue, like speaking a new language. But Phoebe had been right; just saying them, daring to admit them, was _freeing_. She giddily carried on, her voice becoming dreamy. "Arnold _LOVES_ me! It finally _happened_! After all these years of desperate longing, all the plans, plots and ill-conceived strategies, all the countless days and nights spent secretly pledging my eternal devotion and _hoping_ that he might one day feel the same, my beloved has at last _returned_ my feelings of affection!" She spun gleefully in the creaking chair, deftly hopping up onto her knees and grabbing a nearby mop. She clutched the wooden pole to her chest as she continued to twirl, sighing deeply and envisioning her true love in her arms. "And now he _loves_ me! My wildest dream has become a fantastic, impossible _reality_ , an honest-to-goodness _fact_ – the sky is blue, the rainforest is wet, and Arnold Shortman _loves_ Helga G. Pataki!" She couldn't help but giggle at that. "Oh Arnold, how long I've waited to hear you say those words, to feel your sweet lips on mine, my wonderful, football-headed love g- _AHH!_ "

At the height of Helga's spur-of-the-moment monologue, the mop suddenly latched and became entangled with the swivelling seat, causing the freak-out chair to, well, freak out… The girl was sent flailing to the ground with a worrying crash. And to add insult to injury, her efforts to grab the nearby table as she fell just resulted in _it_ flipping, and _her_ lying on the floor covered in magazines. She growled, immediately ready to curse the chair, the mop, or both for bringing such an abrupt end to her passionate musings, and maybe the table for being a willing co-conspirator. But as the less lovesick parts of her brain reassumed control, now that she'd been brought mentally and quite literally back down to Earth, she became painfully aware that she might have gotten a _little_ carried away. Peeking over the upturned desk, she winced when she saw Phoebe staring, her mouth agape.

There were several seconds of mortified silence before Helga could force herself into action, but she eventually leapt to her feet. "Sooo, _yep_ … That's the bottom line. Football Head apparently loves me back. Pretty excited about it!" She scrambled to right the overturned furniture while she talked, spending several painfully awkward moments trying to yank the mop free of the chair before giving up and leaning against the table – she did her best to look casual, but suspected it wasn't working. "Any, uh, questions?" She finished lamely.

" _Several._ "

"Yeah, that… figures." Helga glanced away, rubbing her arm. "Any questions that _don't_ involve what just happened?"

Phoebe shook her head. "I'm perfectly aware that you're a passionate person, Helga. _Especially_ when Ice C-, uh, Arnold, is concerned. As surprising as that was, it's actually rather nice to see you expressing _positive_ feelings so enthusiastically for a change." It was true; Phoebe had been a witness to more than a few of Helga's furious, bitter tirades – it was quite amazing to know something like _that_ existed at the opposite end of the spectrum. But in any case, the words caused Helga to groan and facepalm; Phoebe was suddenly sounding a little _too_ much like Dr Bliss. There was another uncomfortable pause before the smaller girl spoke again. "Regardless, um… do you feel better now?"

"Crimeny…" Helga muttered to herself. With everything else on her plate, she really didn't feel like having to explain her little habit too. "I'm fine, alright? I mean, _sheesh_ , I _have_ barely slept since we came to this stupid country, y'know – it's not like it's my fault if I'm starting to go a little nuts! Just… forget you saw that, ok?" Her tone was harsh, but she sent Phoebe an imploring look. "Now can we please move on?"

"Very well then. _Tell me everything!_ " Phoebe quickly began in earnest, unable to contain herself. She threw her arms wide. "How did this happen? _When_ did this happen? Was it after Arnold located his parents? Did… did you finally confess, or did _he_ confess, or-" She cut herself off, taking a breath; Helga _really_ wasn't making this 'keep calm' agreement easy with these kinds of revelations… "My apologies; I don't mean to interrogate you, but this is all just so exciting! When you said that something happened, I imagined he'd accepted your feelings, or maybe said he ' _liked you_ ' liked you. But _love_? Did he actually _say it_ to you, or did he-" The girl froze, her eyes widening again as she processed a particularly interesting part of Helga's most recent outburst. "What was that part about ' _lips_ '?"

"Huh?" Helga's mind went blank.

"Did you two _kiss_?!"

Helga's cheeks immediately turned just a few shades shy of scarlet. "Ah! Heh, w-well I- That's not really, uhh… T-thought we were just gonna ignore that little slip…" She spluttered her reply, turning her gaze to the suddenly _fascinating_ selection of magazines scattered across the floor. And needless to say, anything short of a flat denial was confirmation enough – Phoebe looked like she wanted to bounce.

"You _did_! Oh Helga, I'm so happy for you!" She couldn't help but release a giggle. "You finally got to sample the Ice Cream!"

" _Ugh!_ " Helga slumped against the table, her head buried in her arms – she couldn't even find it in herself to comment on the pun. This meant that she missed Phoebe's apologetic shrug.

"The analogy was simply too perfect to resist." Suddenly though, a look of concern passed across the girl's face. "But – forgive me for needing to ask this – when you say Arnold loves you, you aren't simply _assuming_..?"

The suggestion was enough to snap Helga out of her embarrassment. She lifted her head, if only so Phoebe could _see_ her rolling her eyes. "Oh, come on – give me _some_ credit. You really think I'm gonna go ahead and _assume_ the guy's in love with me just because I finally managed to score a couple of kisses?!"

' _Perfect, electric, mind-blowing kisses!_ ' She shook her head as part of her mind immediately went crazy at the memories – so help her, there would _not_ be an encore performance! And besides, she was mildly offended; if Phoebe really thought there was a chance that she'd jump to a conclusion as big as _love_ just because of a kiss or two, then her best friend _wildly_ underestimated her pessimism. But what Helga didn't expect was for Phoebe to look even more stunned than before.

"A _couple_? How many exactly?"

"Uhh…" Helga's mind stalled again in the face of yet _another_ costly slip of the tongue (plus Phoebe's penetrating stare). And in a way, this one was even less forgivable – at least Lovesick Monologue Helga couldn't be held accountable for her actions! Her cheeks burned as she thought back, her fingers reflexively moving as she quickly checked off each one. This wasn't lost on the smaller girl.

"You need to _COUNT_?!" Phoebe clasped her hands to her cheeks. "You were gone less than two days!"

Helga _had_ been on the verge of asking whether kisses on the cheek counted… For the sake of her best friend's sanity she figured they probably shouldn't. Instead, she threw out her arms. " _Three_ , ok?! Argh, wait…" She pinched the bridge of her nose – she'd almost forgotten about how she opened her and Arnold's earlier conversation. "Alright, _four_ – four kisses. But that's all!"

" _That's all?_ " For a moment, Phoebe was left speechless. "Helga, that isn't a sample – that's a _scoop_!"

Helga grimaced at that, but she couldn't exactly deny it. She also felt a swell of personal triumph in her chest, but that was beside the point. As it was, all she could do was shrug and nudge her head.

"You wanna sit in the chair?"

" _Sitting!_ " Phoebe nodded rapidly, her voice a good octave higher than usual. She quickly moved to the seat – its swivelling days sadly behind it – and sat heavily, her hands moving to grasp her knees. It would take a while for her mind to stop reeling from _that_ particular bomb. Her tone was as measured as could be expected when she continued. "Apparently things have escalated rather quickly..! I'm sorry for asking you to clarify – I just know how badly you wanted this. So, the _multiple_ kisses you and Arnold have shared during the last 48 hours were _not_ the only indication of his feelings?" Helga nodded, tactfully choosing not to mention that they'd all actually occurred within the last _24_ hours, and Phoebe pressed on. "I would be grateful if you could elaborate."

Helga leaned back against the opposing wall. Looking up into the dim light, she let out a sigh. "He _told_ me, Pheebs. Plain and simple. For once I managed to have an honest _conversation_ with him instead of just hurling a barrage of scathing insults and spitballs his way, and he actually came out and told me he loves me." The girl couldn't help but smile softly, feeling her heart swell. Even this soon she knew, if ever a memory would be able to carry her away on a cloud, it would be the one of her and Arnold standing under those brilliant stars, finally exchanging the words she'd dreamed of since preschool. She turned back to Phoebe, not even registering the look on her best friend's face. "And he might have said it once or twice more since then."

Four times in total – you'd better believe she was keeping track.

"I see. I'm delighted to hear that." Phoebe visibly relaxed, smiling warmly in return; much as she was both relieved and thrilled by the news, she was mostly trying to remember the last time, if ever, she had seen Helga wear such a peaceful expression. She could only imagine what such a conversation must have meant to her best friend. All the same, she resisted the temptation to probe for further, specific details. It would be rude, she felt; what Helga and Arnold had shared was most certainly a private moment, and they could keep it that way. Instead, she chose to voice her amazement. "I certainly see now what you meant about this trip being a success. Considering the years of animosity, I'm quite amazed that Arnold's feelings for you could become that strong so quickly!" Unfortunately, her words seemed to bring Helga out of her moment – the girl appeared to stiffen, her expression growing uneasy. Phoebe quickly raised her hands. "N-not that it's in any way unlikely, and I'm sure Arnold was being honest. It's just rather impressive!" To her surprise, and relief, Helga continued to look more sheepish than offended.

"No, I get that, it's just… Well, it kind of turns out the ol' football head isn't _quite_ as dense as we thought."

Phoebe processed this for a moment, and her jaw quickly dropped. "Do you mean to say he already _knew_ how you felt about him? For how long? And _how_?!"

"Oh, you know, a little while." Helga sounded like she was scrambling. "And, uh… intuition?"

Phoebe did _not_ look convinced.

"Yeah, ok…" Helga's shoulders slumped. "I mean, I _might_ have given him a subtle hint back during the whole FTi thing last year."

Phoebe quirked a brow. "Subtle?"

' _You heard me pal – I love you! LOVE you!_ '

"Yes Phoebe. Subtle."

Phoebe studied her best friend's face for a few moments; the blonde girl had folded her arms, and her eyes gave away nothing. "…Alright then." Instead, she turned her thoughts to the past year, a finger semi-consciously moving to her lip as she contemplated. "You know, I _thought_ his behaviour during that dance last year was a little odd! But aside from that, I suppose Arnold _has_ seemed less affected by your, uh, 'attentions' this year than he has previously. I'm afraid I simply assumed he was, well, becoming used to it…" She didn't miss the quick, guilty look that flashed across Helga's face at that. "But this whole time, he was… evaluating?"

"Something like that." Helga could only give a small shrug. It was either that or swoon – she could still barely handle the idea that Arnold had actually been thinking about 'them', about _her_ , since that morning on the roof.

"And this trip, or rather your actions _surrounding_ this trip, finally allowed him to come to terms with how he feels about you?" Phoebe continued, feeling as though a puzzle was being put into order.

"Hey, I guess I should be grateful I only had to _nearly_ die a few times to get this far, huh?"

"Hmm." Ignoring the morbid joke, Phoebe seemed to ponder a few moments longer before reaching a conclusion. "To be honest, Helga, it's actually quite comforting to know that was the case." She shot her best friend a dry look. "The fact that Arnold has actually had time to carefully consider this, I mean – not the fact that you were in mortal jeopardy… I don't think for a moment that Arnold would lie about his feelings, especially not feelings like those, but it would be terrible to think that all this had just led to him being caught up in the heat of the moment." Helga just barely resisted the urge to headbutt the table. "After all, the lengths to which you've gone for him recently are extraordinary! Arranging the video, facilitating his escape. Lasombra might have even succeeded in stealing the Corazón if you hadn't helped intervene! He certainly owes you a great deal."

"Yeah… about that." Helga glanced away. Technically Phoebe didn't _need_ to know this part, but… she'd done _so much_ to help Helga get this far! Every emergency phone call, every 'life-or-death' task demanded with _zero_ explanation, every 'forgotten' conversation. If this was some kind of finish line, no-one deserved to know how Helga got there more than Phoebe Heyerdahl. Besides, Gerald knew, and if those two really _were_ going to wind up 'going steady' then hiding it forever would just get exhausting… She steeled herself. "Look, since you're getting all this anyway, you might as well know that whole thing didn't _exactly_ go down the way we told you all. Gerald's version of the story, or 'legend', or whatever he's gonna insist on calling it may have included an edit or two…"

"Really?" Phoebe raised a quizzical brow. Honestly, that was a little disappointing to hear – the tale had been quite spectacular, helped of course by Gerald's rather splendid delivery. "What kind of edit?"

Helga winced. "The kind that implied we _didn't_ lose the Corazón over a cliff."

"Oh. _Ohh_!" Phoebe's eyes lit up with understanding – Helga's earlier 'treasure' comment suddenly made sense. "But… Arnold's parents? The Green-Eyed People? If you lost the Corazón, how did you manage to dispense the cure? Were you able to make the machine work without it?"

"Kind of!" Helga spoke quickly, giving an anxious nod. "See, I sorta happened to have an… alternative."

"For an ancient, golden, possibly-magical _heart_?" Phoebe was incredulous. "What in the world could serve as an alternative to _that_?"

"It's- I have this- Aw crimeny," Helga facepalmed once more, "you might as well just _see_ it, Phoebe. Everyone else has! Arnold, Tall Hair Boy, _Eduardo_! Heck, Arnold's parents and about a million _Green Eyes_ have seen it thanks to it being stuck up in that machine like some kind of _public_ _art_ display! Here!"

Phoebe was about to voice her confusion, until Helga swiftly revealed the increasingly-famous locket, apparently before she could change her own mind – she certainly _looked_ as though she'd just ripped off a band-aid. The blonde girl was still resolutely looking away, as if ashamed of the object, yet she held it gently in both hands like a priceless treasure. There was silence for a few moments while Phoebe processed what she was seeing. Sure enough; a heart, and a golden one at that. Not ancient, despite a scuff here and there. Through the glass, and past the white glare bouncing from the light above, Arnold's photo stared back at her – in pieces, she couldn't help but note.

"Yeah, that's right – I carry a dumb, heart-shaped locket with that football-headed yutz's picture in it." As quickly as the locket had appeared, Helga drew it back. Despite the harshness of her words, she held the heart close, gazing into the picture. She nervously lifted her eyes, finally meeting Phoebe's own. "Pretty pathetic, right?" Her brow was raised, almost questioningly.

"You produced this… in front of Arnold? When you realised the machine had lost its key?" Phoebe's quiet response caught Helga off-guard – she'd expected at least _some_ comment on the fact that she even owned such a thing. " _You_ woke up his parents. Oh, Helga…" The girl concluded, wide-eyed.

"Well _yeah_!" Helga waved an arm, as if to highlight the foolishness of the question. "You didn't _see_ him, Phoebe – his parents were right there! The cure was _literally_ right there! I knew what the stupid thing was _supposed_ to look like, so I figured… I mean, I couldn't just do _nothing_!" She turned away, feeling foolish, and stared at the picture in her hand. It was hard to believe; all the effort she'd gone to in the past to conceal the locket's existence, the fact she had ever even _thought_ of discarding it… But she was snapped from these thoughts by a hand on her shoulder – Phoebe had risen, and now stood by her side.

"Of course you couldn't." Phoebe's simple words of agreement belied the pride and admiration she felt for her best friend in that moment. For the second time since entering the small room, she felt moisture building behind her eyes. "It's not pathetic, Helga, and it never has been. It's devoted. And the fact that you allowed Arnold to see this is extremely brave. Both are qualities in you that I imagine he's finally coming to appreciate."

' _But I've also seen you be really loyal, and super brave…_ '

"You sure you and Football Head haven't been swapping notes?"

"I'm quite certain. About that and everything else." Phoebe offered a bright smile. But as she continued to observe the trinket, her brow furrowed slightly. "Although, I do see what you mean about things being a little strange."

"Huh?" Helga started at the sudden change in Phoebe's tone, and quickly, reflexively returned the locket to its hiding place. She saw the puzzlement on her friend's face.

"What you said earlier, about the circumstances being strange." Phoebe clarified. "Arnold loving you back is one thing, the way you played such a critical role in curing his parents is another, but the fact that you were carrying an object which could activate the machine is _extraordinary_! Admittedly, I haven't seen the device myself, but I assume your locket must have matched the size of the Corazón more-or-less perfectly in order to fit. And it's even gold! I can't imagine what the probability would be, but needless to say, it's quite serendipitous." The girl gave a quick giggle. "Perhaps it was fate!"

She had expected a smirk, or maybe a sarcastic quip. But instead, Phoebe's grin faded as she saw the blonde girl's face grow pale. That essence of nervousness, anxiety, or even panic – and oh yes, plenty of excitement – was back in Helga's eyes before either girl could blink.

"Helga?"

Phoebe heard her best friend gulp, watched her agitatedly tap her fingers together, briefly glancing back and forth as if caught in a terrible quandary. And when Helga _did_ finally respond, Phoebe noticed the subdued waver in her voice.

"You should probably sit back down."

* * *

 **A/N I figured these girls have at least two chapters of craziness to cover!**

 **Thanks for reading - if you enjoyed, please take a moment to review!**


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